Cherished Rival
by seasonofthepumpkin
Summary: What exactly makes one into a 'monster? That's a complicated question, and this fic attempts to answer this among other questions. Starring Vincent Valentine and Simon Hojo. Find out why the title 'monster' is not as cut-and-dried as you might have previo
1. Cherished Rival part one

Author's Note: This originally was just one long story, but for convenience I've   
  
decided to split it into several parts, and post them within a few days of each other.   
  
Thanks to darknightdestiny for the idea of splitting it up, it IS more manageable this way.  
  
I'm not gonna lie, this is a very dark demented fic. It has an 'R' rating due to its   
  
general twisted-ness, gore, and Hojo's potty-mouth. You've been warned...  
  
~ Rene (seasonofthepumpkin)  
  
***  
  
"What was it that you hoped to accomplish? Did you really think this could   
  
resolve itself without tragedy? That there would be no blood spilt, or dreams squandered?   
  
I really pity you, if only you had realized..."   
  
Hojo carefully eased the dying, barely conscious young man onto the desk that was  
  
cluttered with various text, and novel scientific apparatus. He pushed some off the offending   
  
clutter from the smooth wood, comfortably arranging Vincent's feverish body. Blood burbled up  
  
from the Turks lips, trickling like a tiny crimson river down the valley of his pale   
  
skin. His eyes had already lost their glint of life, and with that glimmer had been taken   
  
all of his personality, all of the man Vincent Valentine was, leaving a weak, gasping man   
  
on a desktop, his lungs filling with blood. His darkly fringed eyes fixed themselves with a   
  
tearful resoluteness on the older man who leaned over his prone form, his face contorted in  
  
worry.   
  
No, he couldn't just let the Turk die; he still had so much he wanted to   
  
say to him. Things he wanted to tell him, to watch him break under his words. Yes, he   
  
wanted to save him to devour later; he needed time to fully enjoy crushing this adulterous  
  
beast. And time was running out with every drop of blood that filled the man's lungs.   
  
"Why do this..." The Turk gasped out, bringing up the words from the depths of his   
  
heart, bringing with them quite a large amount of the precious crimson liquid. Not satisfied  
  
with his words, he struggled to form another few syllables, even if doing so would mean his   
  
death. "to h...her...and..." The man shuddered with the pain that washed over his body, his   
  
chest wracked with spasms. His companion, busily gathering surgical paraphernalia, momentaril  
  
y paused at hearing his victim wrench out a few words.   
  
"If I were you, I'd lie still, and stop talking. That's not going to heal itself,  
  
you know. I suggest you lay back and let me take care of this." Holding a hypodermic needle  
  
up to the light, he continued to speak to the bleeding man. "Not another word out of you,   
  
if you can help it. This shouldn't be too hard...but I'll be pressed for time, so don't do   
  
anything that might hinder me..."   
  
"..." The Turk weakly shut his eyes, not wanting to witness the hypodermic pierce  
  
his skin, and flood him with numbness. The pain still roared, but a bit lower now, as if   
  
partially sated by the translucent look the world was beginning to take on for the dying man.  
  
Right now he could see through everything, everything was transparent yet with a   
  
solid-ness that could not be denied. He could see through the man that hunched over him,   
  
already preparing to make his incisions, to the entrance of the library, from there to the   
  
stairs, to the house, to the town, to the surrounding mountains. He could see the entire  
  
world, and yet he could not see her.   
  
  
  
The doctor nervously clamped back the layers of muscle, searching for the  
  
offending slug, and upon discovering it, began to painstakingly extract it. Vincent moaned,   
  
but Hojo could not divert his attention from the matter at hand to see what was wrong.   
  
The moan did not originate from pain, the subdued tone of it told him that. It was rather   
  
a delirious one, most likely Vincent was doped out of his mind, higher than he'd ever been   
  
in his life.   
  
Everything was foggy now. Vincent was no longer lying on a gore-streaked desk;   
  
he was in the cave behind the waterfall waiting for her to come. He could hear the professor   
  
swear contemptuously beneath his breath; otherwise he would swear that the entire evening had  
  
been but a dream, that reality was the illusion, and illusion reality. Giving up on putting  
  
the pieces together, he focused on staring at the entrance of the cave, surely she'd not keep   
  
him much longer.   
  
The worst of the operation was over; Hojo had removed the bullet and repaired the lung,  
  
now came the stitching and bandaging. As this would be much easier to accomplish, Hojo began   
  
to talk to the drugged man, trying to keep his own nervousness at bay.  
  
He didn't have to worry about being overheard and discovered, for the most of the team had   
  
already quit out of frustration, and the remaining members were attending a conference at the  
  
Shin-Ra building, leaving him here to watch the place. He could talk as loudly as he wished,  
  
say anything he wanted and no one would ever be the wiser.   
  
"I suppose you wonder why I did this to you. I mean, you come down to talk to me, and BOOM.  
  
You couldn't have seen that one coming. Hell, I don't think anyone could have...I just don't  
  
look like the type to own a gun, hmmm? Much less know how to fire one. But I digress,"   
  
he said in a conversational voice, stitching the gaping wound shut, admiring his handiwork.   
  
"And you did all of this for her. Now you lie on this desk bleeding to death, and what for? A   
  
woman you could never have.   
  
I suppose you loved her. You know, as much as I try, I cannot be angry with you for   
  
that alone. It wasn't that which set me off. She was mine, Valentine. You stole from me   
  
every time you touched her, every kiss you received from her belonged to me. You took   
  
something of mine, and I cannot let you get away with that. You are a thief, and the worst  
  
kind at that.  
  
You wanted her, and you couldn't understand why you couldn't have her.   
  
You couldn't accept the fact that she was already taken. And, as funny as it seems,  
  
I know how you felt. To be denied something you want more than anything in the world...  
  
Feh! Next thing you know, I'll be going mad with remorse."  
  
At that remark, he stiffened his lips a tight line of self-control. No, he would feel  
  
sorry for this man, never! He was an adulterer, the worst kind of thief! He brushed an errant  
  
strand of black out of his own face, wiping his face onto the sleeve of his lab coat. His   
  
eyes narrowed at the thought of this man with his wife, and what they must have done together.   
  
"What are you doing? Let him die, he is of no use to us." The voice curled   
  
like smoke drifting aimlessly inside of his head, tickling his brain. This was JENOVA,  
  
crisis from the sky, and the master of his mind. She always had been a rather vocal entity,  
  
but tonight she had been practically silent up until now.   
  
"You will regret this."  
  
"I don't regret what I am doing, and I don't think I ever will. He can't die   
  
just yet," He whispered, voice beginning to break.  
  
"So...there." He gasped, chest heaving.   
  
He gritted his teeth and clutched his head, trying to   
  
tear himself away from the accusing voices that pricked his brain mercilessly.  
  
"Traitor, traitor, traitor, traitor, TRAITOR! You betrayer! You'll save this   
  
man who threatened your Mother? This Turk who almost took my daughter and your wife from us?  
  
Traitor. Hypocrite, Two-faced wretch!" Her thin, hate filled voice wrapped itself around   
  
his gray matter, squeezing viciously with each word. Hojo cried out in pain, pulling at his   
  
hair, his entire being burning with pain.   
  
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" He screamed, bashing his head against the wall, with   
  
every blow seeming to silence the voice a little. He continued until the voice had stopped   
  
completely. He smiled weakly, thanking the gods for the silence he had fought so hard for.   
  
The smile faded as he realized this was only a temporary victory, She would likely return  
  
with a vengeance.   
  
Talk about a love/hate relationship. Hojo practically worshipped JENOVA as a goddess,  
  
offering him and his own up for her divine use, and yet he somehow hated her. For all of his  
  
devotion, all of his adoration, everything he had given her, JENOVA merely demanded more and  
  
more, never satisfied with what he could give. She was a selfish, controlling bitch that was  
  
for sure. Hell, she owned him, mind, body and soul, wasn't that enough? He had given her his  
  
wife's body to house her perfect warrior. What business of hers was his revenge on the monster  
  
that had stolen his wife? For once, he would have his say in the matter.  
  
"I am not betraying anyone. If you truly wanted him dead, you'd have no difficulty  
  
in achieving your goal. After all, dear Mother, you yourself said 'I will cast those whom   
  
I will into the abyss, and pull back those that I will have not.' I have chosen to pull him  
  
back for now, for my own reasons, he'll not die just yet. I have betrayed no one." He   
  
asserted dryly, turning his attentions back onto Vincent, who had begun to toss his head,   
  
moaning. From the look on his deathly pale face, Hojo didn't have a hard time guessing what   
  
Vincent was dreaming.   
  
"You Turks are truly as degenerate as the rumors say. How ironical.   
  
It was your sins that condemned you; I very nearly tossed you into the lake of  
  
fire myself. But instead I redeemed you, pulled you back from the brink of death.   
  
And you've fled back to your sin before I've even removed the bandages. How depressing.  
  
I guess you'll never learn, will you?" He shook his head and sighed, gingerly touching  
  
his face, and winced when his fingers came away red.   
  
"Do as you will then, but mark my words, this man will be your undoing.   
  
Since you refuse to listen to Mother, I'll just let you learn the hard way, love.   
  
Perhaps when he has shredded you like so much confetti and you lie there crying for   
  
Mother's help, maybe I'll hear you." JENOVA's voice had lost its furious edge, now it was   
  
merely smug. Dancing about lazily in the recesses of his head, voice fading even as she made   
  
her declaration.  
  
"Damn it...I need coffee..." The scientist pulled himself away from the still  
  
twitching young man, intent on satisfying his caffeine needs. He slowly made his way to  
  
the coffeepot that sat idly on one of the many bookshelves. He poured a cup, and drank it  
  
down black. Still warm.   
  
***  
  
His beloved had entered the cave on tiptoe, stealing about as a thief anxious   
  
of discovery. She took one slow, cautious step, them a few quick ones, darting her green   
  
eyes back and forth before beginning the pattern again. Caricaturing the movements outrageously,  
  
she looked so utterly ridiculous he had to laugh. Ceasing her farce, she swiftly ran to him,   
  
covering his laughing mouth with her own.   
  
He leaned into the kiss, savoring the sweet taste of her lips until she pulled away,  
  
a mischievous glint in her eyes.  
  
"Is the coast clear?" He managed to say before she resumed the kiss with as much  
  
vigor as before.  
  
A moment or two passed before she pulled away again, wrapping her arms around him,   
  
laying her head on his warm chest sighing contentedly.   
  
"All quiet on the western front," she teased, hugging Vincent surprisingly hard   
  
for her frail form.   
  
Vincent gently kissed the top of her head, and gasped at her bear hug.  
  
"Hey, easy there, honey...don't want to break me, do ya?" He laughed, sweeping   
  
the woman off her feet, cradling her in his arms. She wrapped her arms about his neck,  
  
busy showering him in kisses almost frantically. He returned the soft kisses, deeply  
  
inhaling her scent, of soap, that delicious perfume she always wore and something   
  
unidentifiable, some thing that was Lucrecia. He never tired of her fragrance;   
  
the mere scent drove him wild. He managed to speak in the midst of all of this,   
  
and this time his words were serious.  
  
"'Crecia, I've missed you so much. I can hardly bear to keep this act up much longer.   
  
It's sheer torture to not be able to hold you, nor kiss you, or even tell you I love you.  
  
When can we end this charade, leave this town, leave it all, and start all over again?   
  
I don't know how much longer I can do this, Lucrecia..."   
  
She stopped her quick little kisses at that announcement, her eyes meeting his  
  
beautiful brown ones. A hurt look appeared on her pretty face, as she gazed up at  
  
him. Vincent wincing at taking the smile from those lips, silky lips he couldn't  
  
bear to see turn down.   
  
"Vincent...you know I want to be with you, you know I want to make you happy,  
  
and I know I can. We can be happy the rest of our life together, but we have to   
  
be careful, oh so careful if we ever want to see that happiness come to fruition.   
  
Don't you understand what he'd do if he found out..." She almost whimpered at that,  
  
burying her face in his shoulder.  
  
"Oh, 'Crecia...you're right...we'll make it somehow, we always do. I wish everything  
  
would disappear, and you and I would stay...I love you..." he whispered, stroking her  
  
shining hair, reveling in the silkiness of it.  
  
"Vincent...you'll never, ever leave me, will you?"  
  
"Never."  
  
"You'll always be with me?"  
  
"Always."  
  
"Promise me, Vincent," she said with a ferocity that caught him off guard,   
  
the raw emotion captured on her face. She beseeched him with wide green eyes,   
  
all her love more apparent at that moment than it had ever been.   
  
"I promise, with all my heart I do. I will never, ever leave you, and I'll never   
  
let anyone hurt you, Lucrecia. I'll never leave you, I couldn't go on living if I lost   
  
you." He felt her petite body stiffen, and winced as her fingernails dug into the back   
  
of his neck, drawing blood.  
  
"You liar." She hissed, eyes glowing a faint green, her loving features twisting  
  
into a horrible mockery of His beloved Lucrecia's face. This thing he held was no   
  
woman, it was a malicious little imp dredged up from hell itself. "You lie. You're   
  
just like he was, selfish, selfish, selfish! Sure, he wanted nothing but an incubator   
  
for his demon spawn, only wanted a specimen to experiment on. But you're a thousand times   
  
more selfish than he ever was!" She screamed, biting viscously into his shoulder. Even now,  
  
he refused to drop her, he held on desperately, begging her to come to her senses.  
  
"Lucrecia, I love you! I love you more than life itself! Please, please snap out   
  
of this! Lucrecia!" He cried, the demon still sinking its fangs into the blood-soaked  
  
sleeve, clearly enjoying the man's pleas.  
  
"Don't even speak my name, you liar! You don't love me, you never did! You never   
  
loved me one bit. You only loved the idea of love! Oh, selfish, selfish man! Hojo   
  
stole my health from me, and you stole my heart! And you never cared! Vincent, you   
  
only cared about yourself the whole time!" the monster's voice began to break, even   
  
as she suckled his wound, fastening her tiny, sharp little teeth into his flesh.  
  
"And what have I now? Don't turn away from me, look at me damn you! Look well, because  
  
you did this to me! And you know what the worst of it is? I trusted you, I believed you  
  
when you said you'd never let anything bad happen to me...you didn't stop him, Vincent!  
  
You let him inject that glop into me, every day, every single day! You saw it was making  
  
me sick Vincent! But you wouldn't stop him! You lied to me, Vincent Valentine, you lied!"   
  
"Lucrecia, please! I tried; I tried to talk you both out of it! I tried to stop him!   
  
I didn't leave you, Lucrecia, I love you..." He stumbled back against the caverns rock   
  
wall, the hideous woman-thing still draining him. He still wouldn't release her from his   
  
arms, even as he sank to the ground, the world before him growing dark. He closed his eyes  
  
in defeat, resigning himself to his fate.  
  
"Vincent," It called, raising its head from the copiously bleeding wound. "Kiss me,  
  
Vincent. One last kiss." He slowly opened two incredibly heavy eyelids, and turned  
  
to face his beloved.  
  
A charred skull grinned back at him, the sockets occupied by two bloody materia orbs  
  
reflecting the green light that lay behind them...  
  
*end part one* 


	2. Cherished Rival part two

Author's Note: This originally was just one long story, but for convenience I've   
  
decided to split it into several parts, and post them within a few days of each other.   
  
Thanks to darknightdestiny for the idea of splitting it up, it IS more manageable this way.  
  
This is segment two, in which Vincent rants and raves, Hojo broods,   
  
and JENOVA puts in an 'appearance'.   
  
~ Rene (seasonofthepumpkin)  
  
* * *  
  
" I'm sorry, I'm sorry. So, so sorry."  
  
Hojo raised his head from the clipboard he was busily filling out to stare over   
  
at his patient, who seemed to be mumbling something over and over. "Three days later,   
  
and still having your perverted dream? Hmph. What are you mumbling about, Turk?"   
  
A sobbing noise came from the desk, a heart-rending sound that echoed lowly throughout  
  
the room.   
  
"Hmmm...it seems the anesthetic is wearing off. Are you awake?"  
  
Tortured brown eyes stared up at him, brimming with hot, bitter tears. Vincent groaned,  
  
turning his head away from the professor blinking back his tears. Hojo just stood there,  
  
unsure of what to do about his ward now that he had him where he wanted him.  
  
"I'm so sorry... I never wanted...it to end this...way. I'm sorry...I lied..."   
  
Vincent choked out, his face twisted in inner turmoil, voicing Lucrecia's accusations   
  
and his own guilt. He sniffed quietly, tears squeezing out of his eyes. Hojo watched with   
  
silent interest as the man sobbed quietly, the tears creating clean tracks through the caked  
  
blood on his pallid face.   
  
"For god's sake, you're laying here crying over Lucrecia when tears won't change  
  
anything. I thought Turks don't cry. Refreshing to know that you've a heart that can be  
  
pierced beneath that cold dead shell of yours."  
  
"I never...meant to lie to you Lucrecia..." Vincent's eyes were glazed over  
  
with tears, almost opaque. He looked awful. More blood trickled from his lips, seemingly  
  
unnoticed by the semi-conscious man, who continued his mumbling. "Never meant to- -"   
  
Vincent's rambling was ended by a violent coughing fit, bringing up great clouts of blood.   
  
Nonplused, he continued his words as soon as he could draw enough air to support them.  
  
"Oh, gods..."  
  
"Still delirious..." Hojo brushed thick black bangs out of Vincent's face,  
  
skin clammy to the touch. "I could dope you up again, but I don't think I will. I'd   
  
rather that you be coherent for now." Leaning over the Turks face, breath tickling the man's  
  
forehead, he stared down into Vincent's deep brown eyes, unsure of what he was looking   
  
for in there, perhaps the demon that had to be lurking inside of the man.   
  
Vincent's eyes were truly beautiful ones, a deep, warm chocolate brown  
  
that did not befit a murderous Turk such as himself. Eyes like polished agate,  
  
simply stunning. Eyes one could lose themselves in for hours. Something stirred   
  
deep in Hojo's soul, a malicious desire to rip those tearful eyes from the sockets,   
  
rip them out and replace them with hellfire.   
  
"...uhhn...Ho- Hojo? Wha-?" Vincent mumbled, squirming on the desk, only to   
  
be held down by his captor. "L-let me go... where is she?" He thrashed as   
  
hard as his numb, drugged body would allow, producing nothing more than a pathetic  
  
wriggling. Hojo smiled smally in spite of himself. This would probably be the only   
  
time a thin, weak scientist would manage to overpower a slim, not-so-weak Turk. It gave  
  
him a sort of sick feeling, but also satisfaction, as many of his previous actions had.   
  
His feelings had been quite ambiguous this entire time, part of him wanting to make   
  
this man suffer, to make him pay for taking what was his, to see him writhe and squirm  
  
uncomfortably, to punish him for sulking into his life and stealing her love away.  
  
But another part of him felt almost guilty for doing this to the man his wife had   
  
loved so dearly. Although Hojo wasn't exactly fond of the lecherous Turk, Lucrecia   
  
had been, and harming him seemed almost like spitting on her memory.   
  
He also wanted to talk to this Turk before doing anything more, but whether  
  
this stemmed from a desire to rub salt in his already grievous wounds, or  
  
from something completely different he could not say.   
  
Now, he had what he had wished for, what he had worked so hard for, the chance  
  
to speak to his wife's lover, to reduce him to tears, to tear him down to a heap  
  
of frayed nerves, to make him suffer. He had achieved his aims, Vincent was laying  
  
here helpless, utterly defenseless, but the victory was a bitter one.   
  
Knowing virtually nothing of his wife's lover other than that he was a Turk,  
  
and scarcely having spoken to him before tonight, he had expected a defiant, self-assured,  
  
soul-less killing machine, a true monster, while what struggled beneath him was a   
  
delirious, bewildered young man. This was not what he wanted, he wanted the aforementioned  
  
brute, someone he could hate and feel no remorse in destroying. He didn't  
  
want this tearful, pathetic youth who had already ceased his struggling, too drugged to fight any longer.  
  
  
  
In short, this wasn't the confrontation he had envisioned.  
  
There must be a mistake, this couldn't be the monster he had   
  
fabricated in his mind. Perhaps it was the drugs, yes, that had to be it.  
  
He must still be drugged, tranquilized, sedated, whatever you wished to call it.  
  
Feeling only a little better, he began his tirade, trying to ignore the sinking  
  
sensation in his guts.  
  
"You could have had any girl you wanted. But no, it had to be my 'Crecia.   
  
If you had only kept your filthy hands off what didn't belong to you,   
  
you wouldn't be here now. It's only human to want what you can't have though,  
  
so I can't blame you too much. I do wonder how I can even consider a monster  
  
like you to be human, however. Goddamned Turk.  
  
  
  
And you said I 'forced' Lucrecia to do something I knew would harm her,   
  
against her will.  
  
Oh, I don't think of it like that. Lucrecia wanted this as much as I did.  
  
Don't you realize that? She wanted to contribute to this project, she wanted  
  
to be a part of it all. Even though her resolution wavered towards the end,   
  
(thanks to your ignorant doom-saying of course) she really wanted this.   
  
You wanted her to be happy, no? She was happy, until you had to prick her   
  
conscience with your 'morals'. You made 'Crecia more unhappy than I ever did."  
  
Hojo regarded Vincent with an expectant eye as he made this statement, waiting for  
  
his inevitable counter remark. Surely now the man would drop this façade, and reveal  
  
himself as the noxious creature he truly was.   
  
He wasn't disappointed, Vincent gazed up at him with teary eyes, and painstakingly   
  
forced out his rebuttal.  
  
"...why couldn't you just let her go? You wouldn't treat her as she deserved,  
  
but yet you wouldn't let her go to someone who would." Although he had started out  
  
strongly, Vincent's voice grew weaker as he choked this out, clenching his eyes   
  
shut as a wave of pain washed over him.   
  
His dreams of insanity and madness had already destroyed him, given him all   
  
the guilt he could handle, had broken him utterly. He felt no right to defend himself,  
  
he was a monster, his own beloved had told him that. Hojo could call him whatever he  
  
wanted, and Vincent wouldn't argue with him.   
  
Hojo merely stood there, unsure of what to say. He had expected a vicious   
  
verbal assault, with all of the profanity and scatological remarks Vincent could force  
  
out in three or four gasps of air. Once again, things did not play out the way he had  
  
imagined. No matter, Hojo still refused to accept what became more and more apparent  
  
by the moment. He still stuck by his decision that the man was the foulest beast to ever  
  
walk the face of the Planet.  
  
And he would have him expose himself as such, before he would rest this night.  
  
"Don't give me that nonsense, you stupid Turk. Playing the martyr isn't   
  
going to fool me. I know what you are, and no mask will cover it up. Hmph. Tell   
  
me, was she good in bed? Did you enjoy knowing you were screwing another man's pregnant wife?  
  
Was that the true thrill, the real reason you wanted her? Because she was someone  
  
else's? Well? Answer me."   
  
Poking Vincent's shoulder impatiently, he ignored the visible pain crossing Vincent's face.   
  
"I loved her. I really did. I never meant...to hurt her."  
  
Vincent began to sit up again, only to be shoved backwards against the desk again,  
  
weakly crying out as he slammed against the unforgiving wood.  
  
No, no, no, no, no. This wasn't what he was supposed to say, not how he was supposed to act.  
  
Why did he just lay there and take these insults, only replying to defend Crecia?  
  
He was supposed to threaten, yell, curse, and fight to defend his disgusting actions,  
  
not just lay here like a broken toy and sniffle about Lucrecia. He wasn't supposed to  
  
be defending her, because he didn't care about her, he only wanted to take her from him.  
  
He wasn't supposed to look so sorry, at least not yet. He was supposed to be unrepentant  
  
till the end. He was supposed to be a fucking monster, for Chrissakes! How could he enjoy  
  
tearing down this already broken man? Hojo hated him for not being something he could  
  
easily hate, hated him for being so despicably weak and human.  
  
Hojo fixed him with glassy, unfocused eyes, any trace of sanity or remote humanity gone  
  
far from him, leaving only rage and startling intellect, a dangerous combination.   
  
Rage is well known to surpass reason, the former easily overcoming the latter.   
  
JENOVA sensed this, this loss of control. Now was the time. She would   
  
achieve her ends, and also have her own revenge, on both her puppet and his rival.   
  
She smiled benignly, already anticipating the havoc she would wreak upon entering   
  
her newest host.  
  
And from the dark recesses of this fractured mind, issued a warm voice,   
  
coaxing the unthinkable.  
  
"Fix him. Make him sorry. You can do it, Mother will help you...."  
  
He had to have something worthy of his hatred, something he could make suffer  
  
without any remorse. He just couldn't truly hate this pathetic Turk on his own  
  
merits without feeling terribly guilty. This man loved Lucrecia, loved her, he   
  
could see that. Valentine had cherished 'Crecia, and losing her was the most   
  
devastating blow he could ever have received.  
  
For a long moment he paused, wondering why it had to be this way, why he would   
  
even want to hate someone who loved her so, who had made her happy, if only for a   
  
while, who would have given his life for hers in a heartbeat. Wouldn't hating him  
  
be terribly selfish on his part? After all, his quarrel had nothing to do with   
  
loving her, it was all about the fact Vincent had stolen from him.   
  
Stolen...immediately Hojo's heart hardened at the reminder of his hatred. Oh,   
  
he couldn't get away with this, he just couldn't! The bastard. He had taken her  
  
from him, maybe if Vincent had never come along, Lucrecia would have still loved him.  
  
Maybe it wouldn't have ended like this, perhaps they all could have been happy if he  
  
had never met 'Crecia. He had to pay. But how?  
  
Hojo's eyes were drawn to the cache of JENOVA cells already prepared in shining   
  
hypodermics, the remnant of Lucrecia's bi-weekly 'treatments'. It would be so easy to   
  
just grab a few, and make this bastard the monster he had to be, the monster Hojo was   
  
determined to have. The monster he had been denied, he would create himself.   
  
  
  
'Let Mother help you..."  
  
Hojo instantly understood what he was to do.   
  
"You monster. You fucking monster. Your mask is about to be torn from you,  
  
you will be exposed for the demon you are. " Hojo grabbed seven of the hypodermics,   
  
filled with the watery solution of chemicals and genomes that composed JENOVA's cells.   
  
Without further thought, striking with the speed of an angered rattler, he injected the   
  
poison into Vincent's veins, the needles descending in rapid succession, tossing the  
  
empty needles away to shatter on the cement as he pumped the fresh ones into the   
  
shell-shocked Valentine. He had fought the first one, but the cells quickly took effect,  
  
leaving him stunned on the desk, paralyzed.  
  
And JENOVA held sway over all. She assimilated herself among Vincent's own cells,  
  
becoming one with them. She congregated them about his innards, fusing with them as well.  
  
JENOVA settled herself down in her newest host, intent on reproducing her cells among his  
  
own before they became dormant for the time being.   
  
"Very good. I rather like this new residence, although the décor   
  
isn't really to my liking. Ah, well. Much can be said for redecorating. I   
  
love renovation, don't you dear?" JENOVA's smug voice echoed hollowly through Hojo's  
  
soul, declaring her triumph.   
  
Even as she spoke, blood vessels burst in Valentines teary eyes,   
  
bathing the rich brown with bright crimson, the former warm color lost forever   
  
to him. Blood red orbs gazed up at him, their expression one of numb bewilderment.   
  
He began to tremble, possessed by a will not his own.  
  
Dimly Vincent heard the crack of bones being shifted out of their natural order,  
  
felt his muscles stretch painfully as they struggled to cover this new skeletal structure,  
  
his skin following suit, becoming the leathery hide of a beast. Horns sprouted from his  
  
now bestial skull, piercing the thick skin, sending rivulets of crimson through his newly  
  
acquired mane and streaming down his face, mingling with tears of physical and spiritual   
  
agony. Claws wormed their way from his massive paws like deranged flowers sprouting from   
  
decaying soil watered with the blood and tears of an agonized lover.   
  
Clutching his head in a vain attempt to alleviate the pain of these new, unfamiliar  
  
accouterments, he uttered a howl of defeat that echoed through the basement,   
  
resounding through the halls announcing his fate. Then the voices came.  
  
" That man, he did this to you, he is the cause of your suffering.   
  
He made you bleed, return the favor. Shred him to ribbons. Mother will deliver him   
  
to you, you will avenge your sufferings. " The beast set its sights on its creator,   
  
fangs dripping with its own blood which had coated them as they emerged from the tender  
  
new gums.   
  
Hojo froze, lowering his gaze to the final empty hypo,  
  
paling as he realized just what he had done. He had sold yet another   
  
soul to JENOVA, given another over to the devil he had resurrected from her  
  
icy prison. And all for his desire for revenge, all in the name of making Crecia's  
  
lover a monster. Hojo's hands began to tremble, dropping the syringe to shatter with  
  
it's predecessors.   
  
The devil of his own making now wished to settle up with its creator.   
  
"Mother's here, don't fear. Our creation will not harm you, I will not let it.  
  
Mother will protect you." Hojo stared numbly at this beast that was easing itself   
  
to its feet, intent on feasting on his flesh. With a roar, the monster leapt towards Hojo,  
  
fangs bared, ready to taste blood. It knocked the scientist onto the ground,   
  
weighing him down like the fabled Night Mare, burying it's muzzle into his neck.  
  
With no way to fight or flee, Hojo screwed his eyes shut, waiting to feel the  
  
fangs pierce his jugular, bringing his miserable existence to an end once and for all.   
  
The pain never came.   
  
Cautiously, Hojo opened his eyes, wondering why he wasn't dead yet.  
  
Valentine, bloody and broken, clothing torn to shreds lay on top of him, eyes  
  
wide open, gasping for breath.   
  
Utterly drained by this transformation, bruised and bloody, and red eyes filling   
  
with hot salty tears, Vincent indeed looked the epitome of misery. Hojo drew himself  
  
up into a sitting position, Vincent bonelessly sliding off of him to lay crumpled on   
  
the cold cement floor. It was like this they sat for a long moment, Vincent utterly  
  
confused and terrified by what had happened, and Hojo lost in thought.  
  
Even as the monster of his own making, Valentine was simply not the image  
  
Hojo had fabricated for his wife's lover. This torn, bleeding man was a far cry   
  
from menacing at the moment, in fact, Hojo would be pressed to think of a more pathetic sight.   
  
He had searched relentlessly for this monster he was convinced resided   
  
in Valentine, and with JENOVA eased it out of hiding, oblivious the whole   
  
time as to where the true monster lay sleeping, waiting for a chance to be released.  
  
Inside of himself.  
  
As much as it pained and frightened him to accept this, he realized he   
  
was more of a monster than the red-eyed freak lying beside him had ever been.   
  
Every man has his demons, but his demon had her man right where she wanted him.  
  
He had brazenly defied JENOVA, convinced he had won this round, only to have the   
  
tables turned on him almost instantly. When he had wished for a monster, he really  
  
didn't want one that could tear his throat out. And he had heard the traitorous  
  
bitch whispering to his rival, urging Valentine on to kill him. Two-faced wench.  
  
And had she really forced him to transplant her cells into the man? Right  
  
out forced him to? Or had she merely influenced him to do so, taking something   
  
that had lingered in his mind all along, some perverse desire locked away deep   
  
inside his secret heart? Perhaps the true demon wasn't Valentine, or even JENOVA.  
  
Perhaps it was him.  
  
He glanced over to Vincent, who had calmed down a little since   
  
his transformation. Beads of sweat stood out on Vincent's pallid face,   
  
running into his eyes. Vincent made no attempt to wipe it away, even though   
  
the salty sweat stung his sensitive eyes like hell. Without thinking, Hojo   
  
reached over and wiped his brow, sweeping the pink froth away. Vincent didn't  
  
even acknowledge him, he merely retained his pained expression as he stared at his feet.  
  
"Lucrecia...you were right...I am a monster..."  
  
"My monster. My precious killing machine. Now don't sulk, it's not really  
  
much different from your job as a hired goon. Mother has great plans for you..."  
  
"Ah, Lucrecia..."  
  
Hojo overheard this little one sided conversation between Vincent   
  
and JENOVA. He thought the voices in his own head were bad enough, now he had  
  
to deal with hearing the highly traitorous dialogue on Vincent's end. He smiled  
  
bitterly; JENOVA was such a laugh sometimes. He knew she was aware he could hear  
  
her, she knew, and probably derived her own sick enjoyment from it. He wondered i  
  
f Vincent could hear what she told him. Probably.   
  
"You know, she isn't on your side. Nor on mine, really. She's just playing  
  
us against each other, as if we weren't already enemies. "   
  
"He's just jealous, love. You know Mother thinks highly of you, Mother understands  
  
you..." JENOVA sang, her voice seamlessly shifting into the voice of his beloved, not   
  
missing a beat. "Vincent, you failed me, but let Mother help you, Mother will make   
  
everything right again..." Vincent grimaced, burying his face in his hands to drown out   
  
'Lucrecia's' voice. Hojo heard this as well, sighing tiredly. JENOVA could imitate   
  
anyone she wanted, take their identity and use it against her prisoner. It had been   
  
very unnerving and confusing to him the first few times, but he had caught on eventually.  
  
As would Vincent.   
  
"Vincent...for Mother to help you, you'll have to help her...do it for me,   
  
Vincent. " JENOVA insisted, still hiding behind Lucrecia's voice. Vincent began to  
  
shake, still holding his head.   
  
"Lucrecia, please..." He replied out loud, his voice trembling with emotion.  
  
Hojo shook his head, realizing JENOVA had him fooled. Why should he intervene? What  
  
did he care if poor old Vincent went crazy thinking this false voice was 'Crecia's?  
  
Well, because 'helping' JENOVA probably included attacking him again, perhaps this  
  
time following through with the bite. If he had to die, by the gods he didn't want   
  
it to be flat on his back smelling the beast's foul breath. Also, because JENOVA was  
  
a back-stabbing bitch who wouldn't even bother to hide her plans from her other 'son'.  
  
What did she take him for, an idiot? He knew if JENOVA really wanted to, she could  
  
probably hide her words from Hojo with little effort. She had withheld her conversations  
  
with Hojo from Lucrecia the entire 9 months, although she occasionally treated   
  
him to her words with Crecia, mostly to point out to him that Lucrecia   
  
was an unfaithful wench, as JENOVA had called her. She was just toying with him,  
  
tormenting them both.   
  
"You'll have to deal with our creation, he's not mentally stable, and could go off  
  
at anytime...put him out of his misery, before he becomes violent. Mother will   
  
show you how..."  
  
JENOVA whispered in her normal voice to Hojo, while simultaneously masquerading  
  
as Lucrecia with Vincent. Multi talented creature, indeed.   
  
"That's not Lucrecia, Valentine. Ignore her. She's only trying to confuse you."  
  
"'Crecia...what do I do?" Vincent mumbled, drawn into JENOVA's spell. Hojo  
  
reached over and smacked him on the back of the head, not too hard, but it wasn't  
  
just a mere tap either. Vincent stiffened, and hugged himself tightly, trying to   
  
shut out Hojo's voice to better hear Lucrecia.  
  
"Damn it Valentine.! That is not Lucrecia. It's JENOVA, and she's trying  
  
to make you do her bidding. Don't listen to her." He growled, wrenching Vincent's  
  
hands from his face. Vincent glared at him furiously; now he couldn't hear 'Crecia  
  
anymore, and she had just been getting to the important part.   
  
Something in the back of his head stirred, something hungry for blood.   
  
"You...you made her leave...why did you do it? She was going to forgive me,  
  
she promised to-" He began angrily, crimson eyes blazing with ire, only to be   
  
cut off by JENOVA's sneering voice directed towards Hojo. He could indeed hear her   
  
as well, but the voice was fuzzy, hard to pick out among the voices in his own head.  
  
It took a certain amount of familiarity to distinguish JENOVA's voice clearly. Hojo   
  
had plenty of practice recognizing JENOVA's voice, and soon Vincent would too.  
  
"Hojo, love, do you really think you're stopping Mother from manipulating the  
  
poor fool by pointing out the obvious? Don't make me laugh. People believe what they   
  
want; and the fool wants to believe it's his lover. Anyway, I am only   
  
having a little fun, playing with his mind. I enjoy watching him suffer.   
  
Mother will have him do her biding eventually, then she'll see to his disposal.   
  
If Mother really wanted to use him right now, there'd be nothing you could do to   
  
stop me. I don't appreciate your attempts to foil me however, as pathetic as they   
  
are. Mother has been so good to you, and this is how you repay her. Ingrate."   
  
JENOVA hissed, tearing at Hojo's brain, making him cry out in pain.  
  
Vincent watched all of this numbly, finally understanding her  
  
trick. Hojo hadn't lied; she had been deceiving him after all. Suddenly he   
  
realized this cruel voice was never going to leave him be, she would be a part   
  
of him for the rest of his tortured existence. He would never have a moments peace,  
  
she'd be in there, tormenting him with her illusions and his own guilt.   
  
He had never been so frightened as he was now.  
  
*end part two* 


	3. Cherished Rival part three

Author's Note: This originally was just one long story, but for convenience I've decided to split it into several parts, and post them within a few days of each other. Thanks to darknightdestiny for the idea of splitting it up, it IS more manageable this way. I'm not gonna lie, this is a very dark demented fic. It has an 'R' rating due to its general twisted-ness, gore, and Hojo's potty-mouth. You've been warned...  
  
Welcome to part three. In which Hojo performs some impromptu surgery, Vincent suddenly understands, and twisted-ness ensues.  
  
~ Rene (seasonofthepumpkin)  
  
* * *  
  
JENOVA began to ease her pressure against Hojo's brain, tired of playing with them for now. Hojo pulled his hair viciously, trying to deal with this god-awful headache she was giving him. All of the color had drained from his face, leaving him as pale as Vincent. She was driving him insane, if she didn't stop soon...  
  
"Well, it's been fun. Vincent, see what happens when you don't listen to Mother? Don't follow his example, it will cause you nothing but pain. And Mother knows what hurts you the most," Vincent merely kept his place on the floor, too absorbed in his misery to reply to the spiteful voice. "Hojo, Mother hopes you are ready to obey her again. Mother is disappointed in you." She intoned ominously, enjoying his wretched spasms. Then mercifully, she let up on Hojo, barely in time to save his sanity. Then she settled back into the two men's heads, silent at last.  
  
"Ah, Crecia...I almost did that fiends bidding in my blindness... I always was blind, but I'm even more so now...such a blind fool to listen to her." Vincent sighed, his guilt laying heavily upon him, pressing him into the deepest pits of utter despair. Hojo sat gasping for breath, slowly recovering from his little JENOVA encounter. Hell, he had almost been killed twice, and the night was not even half over.  
  
"...sadistic bitch..." He spoke without fear now, for JENOVA went into recession at times, where it seemed she was sleeping, oblivious to all. He could say whatever he wanted without fear of retribution, for the time being. "...so you survived, I see...way to try to kill me, Turk. I do deserve it, but one can't help but feel a little bitter towards such an assault."  
  
"I didn't do that..."  
  
"The hell you didn't. ...I'm not blind, I saw everything. You tried to rip my throat out, bastard."  
  
"I almost wish I had," He sniffed, eyes narrowing into red slits as he turned to face the scientist. "Why did you do this to me, put that...thing into me? Why? Was it revenge,'cause of me and Crecia? ...well, she is mad at me now too, the whole damn world hates me. Everyone is against me. I never cared about the rest of the Planet, and I still don't; I only cared about what she thought. And now she hates me. You got what you wanted, you tore her away from me and made her despise me. Wasn't that enough?" he spat, anger quite evident in his normally calm voice. "This is only the icing on the cake, am I correct?"  
  
"Feh...you slept with my wife, and you think you're the one with a right to be angry? Ha, I have more of a right to be angry than you ever will. Don't you think I care she's dead? Don't you think it hurt when I realized she left me for a goddamn Turk of all things? A pretty little moron in a blue suit with hardly two brain cells to rub together? Don't... make me laugh. You only got what you deserved. As did I, in a way." Vincent only mutely stared at him, unable to reply to this remark. He had never even considered Hojo might have cared his wife had died, or that he might have even loved her at one time.  
  
"'Crecia's been dead to me for quite a while now. I lost her a long time ago...or maybe she never was really mine," Hojo continued dryly, polishing his glasses on his torn lab coat. "I only thought it was fair you lose her too. Now maybe you'll know how I felt when I realized she had gone on to better things. Well, she's gone on to much greener pastures now, found a lover much more than either of us could ever hope to be, and now he cradles her in his icy embrace. We've both lost her, and she isn't coming back. Deal with it. I have."  
  
"You're so sick...just because she decided she didn't want to put up with your nonsense any more, you couldn't deal with it. You couldn't bear to see her being happy, so you had to ruin it."  
  
"I suppose you're right. In fact, you've hit the nail on the head. I felt entitled to a little revenge, and now my actions have come back to haunt me. Or to at least rip my throat out." He stiffened, narrowing his own eyes behind his shiny specs. "So, let's cut the crap. You and I both know only one of us will walk out of this basement. You want to kill me, and I want you out of the way. It all ultimately depends on which of us is the more the animal, and the evilest and most base will prevail, with the better man lying dead on the floor. I only wish I could be the better man, the saint, Lucrecia's precious lover.  
  
But isn't it ironic that ::I:: am the demon I've been searching for all this time. Maybe that's the reason Lucrecia was drawn to you. She saw a little of me in there somewhere."  
  
"...I know I've received my just desserts, I will admit that. But the reason I've been left to suffer like this is not because I saved Lucrecia at least for a little while from the man who was slowly killing her with his indifference and coldness. I suffer now because I let her down. I promised I'd always be there for her, and I wasn't. I let her die. I won't pretend I don't deserve this, because I know I do. But don't you dare tell me that taking her away from you was my sin. It was probably the only good thing I ever did for her."  
  
"You really amuse me. Don't you think I made the same empty promises to her when I married her? Don't you think I really believed she would always love me, and we would always be together? Don't you think I thought I honestly meant what I said when I told her I'd always be there for her, and every other sentimental lie I ever told her? Well, as you've seen, all those lovely, sincere promises really don't amount to anything after all.  
  
As for your sin, call it whatever you want. I really don't care anymore. You've shown yourself to be the good man, the noble one, while I've demonstrated I'm the true monster by what I did to 'Crecia's precious lover. Oh well. Are you satisfied now?  
  
There, I said it. I was wrong, and I'm sorry, although if I could turn back time, I don't think I would have done anything differently. I still would have fired that shot, I still wouldn't hesitate to pump you full of that shit."  
  
"What do you mean I'm the noble one? My hands are just as dirty as yours. We both used her, in our separate ways, although I used her most cruelly. I used her for her love, while you used her to fulfill your twisted desires. You murdered her in the name of science, and I in the name of love. I'm just as guilty." Vincent's face fell as he uttered these words, Lucrecia's bitter, damning voice echoing in his brain.  
  
"This is very pointless, you know that?' Hojo grinned, brushing a stray strand of Vincent's hair out of his face, only to be met by a cold stare, which he ignored. "In other circumstances, I suppose we might have been friends. Funny, huh? Just think, instead of sitting on a cold cement floor in a drafty basement laboratory at each others throats, we could have been two old friends off in a bar somewhere shooting the shit. Almost impossible to picture, isn't it?"  
  
"...stop it. Just stop it."  
  
Hojo smiled sarcastically, shaking his head sadly. Vincent was aghast at this utterly ridiculous babble Hojo was spouting, wondering if the man had finally snapped. However, he was unable to muse on this very long; a throbbing pain in his left arm demanded his immediate attention. He glanced down at his arm and promptly gasped before he could stop himself.  
  
His entire left forearm had turned a sickly black and to make matters even worse, the discoloration seemed to be steadily spreading upwards. Hojo's eyes widened at this, he instantly grasped Vincent's left wrist to take a better look, ignoring Vincent's protests.  
  
"What the hell? Oh, shit...and this is the arm I gave you the injections in... That might explain it..." Vincent feebly tried to wrench the injured arm away from his tormentor, only to cry out as the dull ache gave way to sharp pains. "Hold still. I think I will have to amputate it..."  
  
Vincent redoubled his efforts, frantically jerking away from Hojo.  
  
"Damn it, stop that. I've got to think of a way to get this arm off...a saw...a bone saw..." Hojo began, more to himself than to Vincent. "...blood loss is my main concern...ah, I can probably handle it.."  
  
"What are you doing?! Let go, let go!" Vincent cried, succeeding in pulling away. "You're a crazy, psychopathic bastard, and I won't let -"  
  
"Valentine, you really don't have much of a choice. That arm is coming off. On the table." Hojo searched desperately through the file cabinet for an anesthetic that would knock Vincent out long enough to amputate. "Damn it, where is it? Don't tell me I used the last of it earlier...ah. This might work...no, it's just a local anesthetic. Ah well, beggars can't be choosers. You heard me, on the desk. I'd hurry if I were you, the rot is spreading. You can't even feel anything below your elbow, can you? I don't have time, it has to come off now."  
  
Indeed, Vincent had no feeling below the elbow, the skin wretchedly black, and disgustingly cold and clammy. Of course Vincent wasn't eager to have his arm cut off, numb or not. All at once, his arm was filled with a stomach-turning sensation that set him on edge, a ticklish feeling inside the blackened tissue. "Ah, something's inside of it...it's squirming...I have worms in my goddamned arm!" Vincent cried out, the shock and pain of the entire night bearing down cruelly all at once, becoming too much for him. Hojo advanced on him with the shiny, silvery hand-held rotary saw, sleeves rolled up and latex gloves donned. He pushed the hysterical man against the desk, gripping the arm firmly, applying a tourniquet to stay any bleeding that might result. Vincent's eyes were two wide blood red orbs that stared up in shock as Hojo tied the tourniquet tightly, cutting off his circulation. That accomplished, he seized the arm roughly, holding it steady to make the cut.  
  
"Now don't move until I have everything under control, understand? Don't move." The whirring of the saw filled the room, the circular silver blade slicing through flesh and bone quite efficiently. Vincent kept his eyes glued to the horrific scene, unable to rip them away. The arm finally severed, Hojo quickly switched the saw off, and prepared to stitch the wound shut.  
  
Wait.  
  
Where was the blood? Hojo stared wordlessly at the stump, the shock stamped clearly on his face. Vincent's stump wasn't bleeding, and as he observed the raw wound with sick fascination, the reason became apparent to him.  
  
Vincent's arteries and veins had sealed their own ends, and were now extending themselves slowly out of the stump, like a snail extending it's antennae. They twitched lazily a few times, then withdrew back into the upper arm, looking for all the planet like a number of writhing, bloody snakes.  
  
Vincent's ranting immediately came to mind, but Hojo shoved it out of his head, concentrating solely on the stump. He removed the now unnecessary tourniquet quickly, not wanting to damage the arm any more than he had.  
  
"It seems JENOVA has already taken care of any problems involving loss of blood. She's sealed the severed arteries, I've no need to tie them off. Valentine? You still there?"  
  
Vincent suddenly realized he hadn't felt a thing. All he had felt was the vibration of the saw, and the pressure of the blade bearing down. It hadn't hurt at all. All of this worried him even more, this was unnatural, having an arm lopped off was supposed to hurt, and it definitely was supposed to bleed.  
  
"Feh, she must like you. Lucky, aren't you?" After wrapping the stump with gauze and taping it into place, he released what remained of Vincent's left arm. "Good thing you're a righty. I will see about replacing that arm, however, but in the mean time, this will have to do. Did you feel much pain?" He questioned with professional concern, eyes locked on Vincent's face waiting for any reaction.  
  
"......" Somehow, Vincent could swear the arm was still there. He supposed this was the 'phantom pain' he had heard so much about in training. He could feel his forearm more vividly now, even more so than when it had still been attached to him. It just felt so frighteningly alive...like sparks of electricity were shooting through it, starting at the tips of his 'fingers' to the now nonexistent elbow. It was such a strange sensation, one that made him want to rip off the bandage to make certain the arm was really gone. Underneath the sterile white gauze, something stirred.  
  
"I believe the reason the arm began to. rot, for lack of a better word was that your left forearm was the site of the injections. She should have dispersed her cells throughout your bloodstream evenly upon entering, to conquer as much ground as possible in a short time. The JENOVA cells die if they don't attach themselves to the hosts living cells within a few moments, so naturally she is in quite a hurry to latch onto as many of her host's cells as she can before that happens. I gave you...let's see...7 times the bi-weekly dosage Lucrecia received, but all in one go instead of gradually. An excess of the cells might have clogged the vein up, and all of the cells were not able to disperse. In that case, they attached themselves right where they were, populating the area far beyond your cell's capacity to host them. In other words, your cells were outnumbered and completely overcome by JENOVA's, jammed in until your cells burst and in the process I would guess that JENOVA devoured those human cells like a sort of...gangrene." Hojo opened his mouth again to add to this, but he was cut short upon seeing the bandage move slightly. He cautiously began to remove the gauze, unsure of what he would find lurking beneath.  
  
Vincent watched spellbound, too absorbed in this to protest Hojo's touching him. What lay under the bandage, what horror awaited them? It seemed to take an eternity for Hojo to unwrap all of the gauze, in fact, Vincent had to be restrained from ripping it off himself, impatient with Hojo's agonizingly slow progress.  
  
"Hurry up...I feel it moving..." Vincent urged, his heart racing like mad. He had to know what was under there, what further damage JENOVA had dealt him. "Hurry, damn you! You're too slow! Hurry," he whimpered, immediately disgusted with himself for it. This entire ordeal had reduced him to this, a pathetic, trembling wretch who was begging a maniacal professor to unwrap the bandage from his eerily alive stump. He was so disgusted with himself, ashamed he could not even find the resolve to be the calm, strong, aloof man he had previously been. Everything else he possessed had been ripped away from him already, from his dignity to his brown eyes Lucrecia had admired so, and what hurt most of all, her.  
  
"Now stop that. Keep still! The more you squirm, the longer it takes." Hojo scolded as he slowly unwrapped the soft gauze, feeling pretty lousy now. Although he had not really known Vincent before, he did know that Vincent had always been the strong, silent one, the perpetually unruffled one.  
  
And now this dark, calm man was little more than a bundle of raw nerves. Hojo put it down to exhaustion, shock and pain, and doubted that it would be permanent, but it was unnerving anyway. He had done this to Lucrecia's lover. Lucrecia had loved him, and Hojo had done this to him. Instead of satisfaction, he felt. well, guilty for wanting to hate such a pathetic creature. And for some reason, the mere fact Lucrecia had cared for this man made him feel worse.  
  
The gauze was down to it's final layer, the pair's eyes locked on the stump, hardly daring to breathe. Hojo glanced up at Vincent, who's expression was one of intense tension. "Are you ready..?" Vincent nodded, without even looking at him. Hojo eased the last of the bandage away, and for a moment time stood still.  
  
* * *  
  
(end part three) 


	4. Cherished Rival part four

Author's Note: This originally was just one long story, but for convenience I've decided to split it into several parts, and post them within a few days of each other. Thanks to darknightdestiny for the idea of splitting it up, it IS more manageable this way. I'm not gonna lie, this is a very dark demented fic. It has an 'R' rating due to its general twisted-ness, gore, and Hojo's potty-mouth. You've been warned...  
  
Part four is here, and I hate to say that things aren't looking up for either of our characters right now. Vincent and Hojo speak of morality and what-not, an appearance by the mother of all growing pains, and MORE general twisted-ness.  
  
I just want to say thanks to everyone that's still reading this. It's been a long, weird trip, and it's not going to be over anytime soon.  
  
~ Rene (seasonofthepumpkin)  
  
* * *  
  
Vincent sat slouched down on the floor in the corner, cradling his noticeably extended stump. Hojo had left the wrapping off to allow it the freedom to extend itself further, and now it had grown a startling 5 inches from the elbow downwards in the only 2 hours. This arm wasn't really different than his previous one, not that he could see anyway. Sure it was thinner, frailer, paler, but it was the beginning of an arm. If it continued at this rate, in an hour or so he'd have a new completely formed arm.  
  
Hojo had accredited this little miracle to JENOVA as well, reasoning that she thought him more useful with two arms. He had not left Vincent's side this entire time, despite Vincent's protests. Even now he sat only a few inches or so away in an office chair, taking copious notes while keeping an eye on him simultaneously.  
  
" Amputation of the L. forearm a success, regeneration d/t J cells. Post op. condition is fair, spec. PC complaint of movement in stump, med. given p.r.n." He scrawled messily, glancing down at Vincent who sat gloomily at his feet sulking. "Any new complaints?'  
  
"Didn't you get the hint when I moved over here? I want to be alone." Vincent said sulkily, his brow lowered in a scowl. "I do not want you constantly breathing down my neck, and I'll thank you to leave."  
  
Not even looking up from his notes, he evenly replied to Vincent's cranky remark. "Feh, you'll take that back the minute you have any complications. I know I'm not your favorite person in the world; hell, I'm probably at the top of your shit list right now, but you need me, as little as you want to admit it." The drugs had worn off for the most part, and Vincent had become more vocal, although everything that he uttered was either a lament for Lucrecia, or a cut towards Hojo, always on her behalf.  
  
Never for himself; Hojo could call him all the dirty names in the book, and he'd never blink an eye, but the minute he mentioned Crecia he'd snap to attention with a spiteful comment. He'd even take things directed towards him, or things that had no relevance, and twist them around to speak of her. Did the man have so little self-respect? When Hojo had wanted to break him, he'd wanted to dash Vincent's ego into the ground, crush any feeling of worth he had ever had, but he had been beaten to that. Vincent simply had no desire to reply to verbal attacks to himself, but he would not hesitate to remind Hojo of what he had done to his lover.  
  
Was she all he ever thought about? Did he think of anything without her being a part of it? Had it always been this way, or was it the result of losing her? Grief did strange things to a man, he reasoned, scribbling his notes erratically, the usually neat handwriting almost illegible.  
  
"I don't need you...just leave me alone. I never asked you to save me anyway, I would have been happy to take leave of this body and go to her. So just shove off. "  
  
"Try to help someone, and see how they repay you...such an ungrateful man. Y'know, I do feel sorry for you, in my own way, but I'm not sorry for what I did." Hojo almost smiled at Vincent's cynical expression, but wisely held it back.  
  
"Sorry? What a joke. Being sorry is all well and fine, but tell me, Professor. Will remorse bring her back? Will remorse undo what you did to her?"  
  
"You're such a martyr. Unconcerned with your own welfare, only with hers, like always. Of course I'm sorry she died, did you think I wasn't? Don't you think if I had the choice I would have chosen to keep her alive? It's a shame she had to go, but you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, as heartless as it sounds. She knew the risks, she knew all of this, I warned her. She knew that there was a possibility the experiment would be fatal, but that didn't stop her, bless the woman. Anyway, why do you always assume I speak of her? I'm sorry she died, I miss her, but I only did what I had to do. However, I was referring to you earlier, but I suppose the statement would cover her too," Setting his notes down, Hojo fixed him with a frighteningly calm eye. "I don't expect you to understand any of this, so I don't even know why I'm bothering to tell you."  
  
"Then why are you doing it?" Vincent sat up a little straighter, in an attempt to ease the stiffness of his joints and the soreness in his back. He gave his companion a rather annoyed look, his eyes glowing red faintly, like dying embers in the hearth. "Why do you tell me all of this? I don't care if you're sorry, it doesn't change anything. Being sorry won't make everything all better again. "  
  
"I've often wondered," Hojo continued, ignoring this comment. " Is it possible to feel sorry for your transgressions...yet you wouldn't hesitate to do it again if given the opportunity. What would you call that?"  
  
"I'd call it evil." Vincent spat, turning his back to him, then bowing his head penitently. "Lucrecia was the best thing that ever happened to me, and you took her away from me. If you think I'll forgive you for that, you're crazier than I thought. How could you touch something so pure, and pervert it the way you did? I've often wondered how you could do something like that. But in answering your question, I answered my own."  
  
"Hmmm, perhaps. I never claimed to be a saint after all. But I've a question for you--"  
  
"Answer mine first. How could you do that to your own wife, whom you claimed to love? And to her son...your son, your own flesh and blood! She trusted you! She trusted you with her life, offering her body for you to use as a goddamned test tube... How could you take her trust in you, and betray it the way you did? How could anyone?" Vincent interrupted fiercely, the faint glow of his eyes becoming a more intense vermilion as he whipped his head around to stare at his captor.  
  
"I told you. She knew the risks, this was what she wanted. She wanted to be a part of this experiment, it meant so much to her, it made her happy. Who was I to deny her happiness, to push her around, to make her decisions for her? As for the child, his only purpose, the only reason he was even conceived was for the Project, and she accepted that.  
  
You say I betrayed him too, in betraying her...well, is Lucrecia blameless in all of this? She was, after all, his mother, and agreed to all of this. Babies are really little more than parasites, feeding off their host, the mother. But parasites are also utterly dependent on their host, therefore in the act of leeching off of them, they commit their life into their host's hands, do they not? Isn't that a form of trust? Ah, that also sums up our relationship pretty completely, if you ask me. But to the point; If I'm evil for betraying Lucrecia's trust, what is she for betraying that child's then? Answer that."  
  
"You sick--"  
  
"Yes, I'm a sick man. Very sick. In fact, I disagree with Gast's earlier theory that JENOVA was a Cetra...I believe she was also a disease, or at least a carrier...a communicable mental illness...a form of contagious insanity, even a parasite, like a baby. Yes, even JENOVA is dependent for certain things. Mental illness. She is quite similar to one, if you think about it. Voices in the head are commonly recognized as a sign of mental illness, and the sense of disembodiment and loss of control...well, that is too. But she's more than just a mental illness...she's--"  
  
"Evil, just as you are. Two conspirators, accomplices, responsible for my Crecia's demise. And you knew what she was! You knew she would do this to her, knew it would kill her..."  
  
"I didn't expect it to kill her. I never wanted her to die, I still loved her...I did! Deny it, try to disprove it all you want to, but I still loved her in my own way! Truth be known, I never thought it would really kill her, although I knew there was a risk. So? There is risk in everything! Risks should not discourage us from living our lives, therefore I didn't see why we should let the fact there was a slight risk involved hinder us.  
  
I only injected it into the baby, and into her womb. I planned to remove the uterus as soon as possible following the birth, to clean out any trace of the JENOVA. Of course I knew that the baby and mother share the same blood, but I didn't think it would kill her even if she had JENOVA in her bloodstream.  
  
Hell, it didn't kill me, did it? I'm standing before you large as life, and I took the injections even longer than she did. And I shot it straight into my veins. She just affects different people different ways... With one thing in common of course. She talks to us, all of us.  
  
But I never thought it would hurt her...although I didn't know then what I know now..." He sighed, shaking his head slowly, smiling sadly. Why had he survived, when his precious wife had to die? He had asked JENOVA this, and she had responded that he simply was more worthy than she was, that she had a limited use, and her use-fullness would end soon. Her engagement was coming to a close, the gig was up. After all, didn't Mother know best?  
  
"...murderer..."  
  
"Let me see that arm," he interjected, rising from his chair. Hojo leaned over the sullen Vincent, grasping his upper arm only to be shook off. "Let me see it, I have to make sure it's coming along all right."  
  
"I don't care if it comes along all right or not. Just stay away from me."  
  
"Look, I'm trying to help you out a bit here, and you spit it back into my face? You are totally ungrateful."  
  
"Why do you help me anyway? You hate me, and I hate you, and you know what? That's the way it's going to stay. If you think for one moment I'll forgive you for what you did to Lucrecia, you're dead wrong. I'll never forgive you for that. No matter what." He hissed this venomously, with more anger than he had displayed all evening. He'd never forgive this bastard, what he had done was inexcusable. He had taken 'Crecia's trust and abused it, ground it into the dirt, spat on it, and left it there to rot for good measure.  
  
"Did I ever ask you to forgive me? I never said I wanted you to. I don't care if you hate me or not; I did what I had to do, and I'll never regret it. I'll stand by what I did till the day I die. Even if what I did hurt me..." Hojo's voice broke on that, but he quickly composed himself, resuming his professional air. "I'll always hate you, Valentine. You don't understand how horrible what you did was. You only saw your own wants; you never once stopped to think that your actions might affect others. What you did was totally selfish, you took something from me I never will have again, something I needed, and not only for my research. I needed her love, Valentine, I needed her. And you took her. I was selfish too, selfish for wanting her to stay with me when she could have you. Love is selfish. It's ironic such a noble thing as love can be synonymous with something as vile as selfishness, but that's the way it is. Well, you only saw your side of things, so I suppose I'm entitled to do the same. You'll say I must not have valued her very much if I let her expose herself to the JENOVA, but I already told you why I did that. I let her do it because I wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to be happy because I loved her, and wanted her to love me. Yes, I am selfish. I thought only of my own happiness while pretending it was for her happiness. But you were just as selfish. You have no room to talk."  
  
Vincent made no comment on this, so Hojo took the liberty to speak further.  
  
"As for hating you, yes, I hate you. I hate you because you took her, because you waltzed into my life and danced out with her love. I hate you for winning her love, for being my rival. But at the same time I...I...ah, I don't know what I am trying to say. I've felt this way lots of times in my few years on this planet.  
  
Take our dear friend JENOVA. I've slaved over her, given her everything I have, only to have her crush my gifts, spit in my face, and then she had the balls to pick you, of all people, to do her work as well. And yet, I still worship her. True, I don't like her very much, she's as selfish as the day is long, but I love her in my own weak way. I hate her at times, I grow weary of her selfishness, her ungratefulness, and I balk against her. But I always go crawling back, now don't I?  
  
How about Lucrecia? She told me she loved me, that she always would, and I don't think I have to tell you what happened next. I gave her what I could, and at least she was somewhat grateful. But the minute you came on the scene, she pulled a 'JENOVA' of her own. You know the drill; threw everything I ever gave her back in my face, took my heart and ripped it out, and of course it wouldn't be so excruciatingly complete without you to run to. I hated her for picking you, but I loved her at the same time. I pretended I didn't care, but of course I did.  
  
And finally, there's you. You, the one who always got everything, the 'good' one, the 'noble' one, everything. I think I hate you most. In fact, I'm sure I hate you the most. Everything I ever had you managed to take. I love myself for hating you, yet I hate myself for even caring. Why do I care if the damn arm grows back? What do I care if JENOVA plucks your brain out and uses it for a rubber ball? Y'know, at least Crecia and JENOVA gave me something in return, but you, you've given me nothing but a pain in the neck and night after sleepless night of exhaustion. I've slaved over you, and you threw it back in my face. Why did I even slave over you? Either I want you to stay alive as long as possible so I can keep on hating you, or because I feel responsible for you since I've made you what you are. It's all so very confusing; I never have understood, and I think I never will."  
  
"...I don't care about all that, and I don't blame you for hating me, I hate myself too. But I don't want your pity, I won't have it. I let her down, I got what I deserved. I hate you, I hate you on her behalf, on my behalf. I'll still never forgive you...gods, I hate myself...wish I'd die."  
  
Vincent slouched down again, back turned to Hojo. Hojo reached for the arm again, this time meeting no resistance. He turned the Turk to face him, to better examine the clammy forearm. It had indeed grown another inch while they had been arguing, he could see the beginnings of a wrist forming. Whatever JENOVA was doing, he'd never seen anything like this before. He probably had never admired her as much as he did at the moment. Only she could do something of this magnitude; grow a human arm back from a stump, and do such a beautiful job of it as well. He thought this new arm was even better than the one nature had given Valentine. JENOVA always had been one for improving things; 'If it's not broke, don't fix it' simply wasn't her philosophy. Nor was it his, really.  
  
Vincent bore this in stoic silence, even though Hojo knew the arm must be killing him, as rapidly as it was growing. The great grandpappy of growing pains. Of course he didn't care if it was hurting Vincent, but Hojo couldn't help but somewhat admire the way he refused to say anything about it. He squeezed the arm experimentally, satisfied that his observation had been correct; he definitely saw a wince there.  
  
"I think she's almost done with it. Soon you'll have a hand, and it'll be like you never lost the old one. Of course this one will be better, simply cause JENOVA made it, and she always manages to run circles around the original. Such a talented girl, isn't she? Almost makes up for all of her bad points, see, slaving over her has its benefits." He let the arm drop back down to Vincent's side, and returned to his chair to add to his neglected notes.  
  
* * *  
  
(end part four) 


	5. Cherished Rival part five

Author's Note: This originally was just one long story, but for convenience I've decided to split it into several parts, and post them within a few days of each other. Thanks to darknightdestiny for the idea of splitting it up, it IS more manageable this way. I'm not gonna lie, this is a very dark demented fic. It has an 'R' rating due to its general twisted-ness, gore, and Hojo's potty-mouth. You've been warned...  
  
Part five is up, and six will be up by the time you read this. I just want to say thanks to everyone that's still reading this. It's been a long, weird trip, and it's not going to be over anytime soon.  
  
~ Rene (seasonofthepumpkin)  
  
* * *  
  
A few hours till dawn...how much longer would the rest of the team be in Midgar anyway? How much longer would he have the luxury of being able to do his dirty work out in the open without fear of espousal? How much longer before nosy co-workers would begin asking prying questions about why Vincent Valentine of the Turks had suddenly decided to go for the vampy gothic look, and was mumbling about dearly departed Lucrecia, and why there was blood all over the basement? They had taken Lucrecia's son down with them, leaving him here to pretty muchtie up all the loose ends, and to keep an eye on his ill wife.  
  
And he had the biggest loose end of all sitting in front of him. He would have to do something with him; he couldn't just let him go back to Shin-Ra in this condition. Besides, he knew too much. But what could Hojo do with him? And he might be running out of time. He would have to make his decision soon, tomorrow at the latest.  
  
"Not much more we can do here. JENOVA's taking rather good care of you I'd say. She likes you. No surprise there. Hmph. You're quite a mess though. Look like you crawled out of a fast-food dumpster or something. I'm sure I don't look so hot either. D'ya know you have blood caked all down the right side of your face? I've really let sanitation go straight to hell, haven't I? " He watched the man for any sign that he had been listening, but found none. Vincent was much too absorbed in his own thoughts to listen to Hojo's babbling.  
  
Now that Lucrecia was gone, what purpose did he have in this world? Why should he keep on struggling when there was really nothing to struggle for? It was amazing in a way; he'd never really known how much he needed her until she had left. He'd known he loved her with all of his heart and soul, that he'd die for her in an instant, but he'd never realized exactly how much he loved her until now, and he couldn't even tell her now. He thought back to that evening, the last time he'd seen her.  
  
That night she had looked so desperately ill, so utterly drained a week after giving birth. She had tried to hide her deplorable condition from him, denying any pain, refusing to admit she was dying. She had even tried to smile as she denied her pain, insisting she was just tired, that painful little smile burned into his mind for the rest of his life.  
  
She had looked so small in her bed, so frail underneath all of those blankets concealing her tiny body, she had looked almost like a caricature of a little girl waiting to hear her bedtime story for the night. And she had been so pretty, even now, withered away to a mere shell of herself she had looked so pretty. It seemed tragic that one dying should be so beautiful, no one should look as pretty as she did while they were dying. She had attempted to sit up when he entered the room, and had to be coaxed into laying back down.  
  
He had been so mad at Hojo for doing this to her, but when he had mentioned going down to the basement to settle up with him, Lucrecia's already colorless face paled, and she had grabbed his hand begging him not to confront Hojo. She refused to let go, growing more restless by the moment, even trying to rise from her bed until he gave in to her request if only to make her calm down. She had smiled again, he remembered, this time the smile was a tired one.  
  
She had lain back at his insistence, and closed her eyes for what would be the last time. He had stood over her a long time, debating on whether to kiss her before leaving the room. She looked so tired, and so peaceful he hated to disturb her, but he hated to leave without kissing her.  
  
Finally, he bent over her to gently brush her lips when he noticed that the blanket over her bosom was not rising and falling in time with her erratic breathing. He drew back, realizing how peaceful she looked, too peaceful in fact. He extended a trembling hand to check for her pulse, and found none. She had slipped away, left before he could even begin to tell her all the things he needed to tell her, before he could even kiss her.  
  
He had shouted for help, but of course no one had responded, the place was empty save for Hojo, and he was down in the basement. He had desperately tried to resuscitate her, performing CPR for almost half an hour, the whole time knowing his labor was in vain, she was growing cold. He had cried, had pleaded with her not to leave, to say something, to say anything.  
  
There had been so much he wanted to tell her, but now he would never be able to tell her.  
  
"Crecia...I never got to tell her goodbye..." He murmured, cradling his face in his right palm and incomplete left wrist. "Never will...she's gone, she's gone..."  
  
"Don't spazz out on me again, Valentine. Are you in there?" Hojo took hold of Vincent's shoulder, and shook him gently. "Snap out of it."  
  
"I wanted to be there, Crecia...I..." He moaned, shaking his head vigorously, flinging blood-tinged tears onto Hojo's already stained labcoat. Once again he had become trapped in his nightmare, removed from reality and lost in illusion. What was more torturous, the past or the present? His present tormentor, Hojo had pushed his body to the limit, tortured him mercilessly, given him to JENOVA. His past tormentors were none other than the woman he had loved with a frightful passion, and his own guilty conscience which barraged him with memories, tainted with JENOVA's delusions. With the past and the presence so daunting, where could he escape the torment?  
  
"Come on, Valentine. You're a mess. At least I should clean you up before I decide what to do with you. And I have a huge mess to clean up. Why'd you have to bleed everywhere? Geez, couldn't you have stayed over the rug or something?" Hojo attempted to lift his companion to his feet, with limited success. Vincent stumbled a few teetering steps in the direction he was being led in, still murmuring faintly, a distant look in his crimson eyes.  
  
"Steady...gods, blood everywhere...ugh. It'll take me a while to clean this up, and I don't have the time. Maybe I can pass it off as an experiment gone awry...well, it wouldn't be lying, now would it? And then I have to decide exactly what I am going to do with you...I can't just let you wander around the mansion in this state, y'know." Hojo led his charge to a chair, and carefully seated him. Vincent's head hung lowly, his hair obscuring his blank face. He seemed to be off in another world, Hojo noted dispassionately, flicking a strand of blood-caked hair out of the Turk's face.  
  
"Come on now, I need you here in the real world; you can't just run from your problems. You'll have to face them eventually, they won't just go away. Face it." Vincent blinked slowly, tears still flowing from his swollen eyes. He could hear Hojo; hear him in the background all distorted and fuzzy, but his own mental wailing was his primary focus at the moment. He was mourning Lucrecia's death, torn between respecting her last wish, and wanting to confront her husband in his sterile little lab, to show him exactly what he had done to the most perfect woman on the Planet. His reverie was ended abruptly, Hojo shaking him by the shoulders to snap him out of it.  
  
"Uhn..." He wheezed, blood dribbling out of his parted lips spattering onto his lap making little dime-sized spots of crimson on the tattered, filthy navy-blue. He had bitten his tongue violently, Hojo realized, most likely while he had been mooning over his lost love.  
  
"Ach, I fix you up, and what do you do? You try to ruin all of my hard work," He drew a restore materia from his pocket, and concentrated on activating it, focusing it's power on Vincent. "And you're very lucky I have the mental energy left to use it on you, I fear if I don't get some rest soon I think I will have a nervous breakdown of some sort. ..ah, you'll have to make do with a lower level spell, I just don't have the energy to cast a higher one. The things I do for you." A faint green light emanated from the emerald orb he cupped in his left hand, head bent almost as in prayer. He clasped his right hand over the left, eyes closed tightly in concentration. The misty light enveloped Vincent's battered body, settling upon him like a green blanket, seeming to sink into him, absorbed greedily by his body. The light faded, Hojo tucked the orb back into his pocket soberly.  
  
"...my head..." Vincent clutched at his head weakly, eyes squeezed shut in pain. "...the voices...all the voices..." Nodding absentmindedly at Vincent's rambling, Hojo reached around for the cooled boiling water he had sterilized his surgical instruments in earlier; after all, some things just had to be done properly, no matter how bizarre the situation was. He dipped a cloth into it, wringing out most of the water he scrubbed the dried, caked blood from Vincent's face, the cool cloth soothing his fevered skin.  
  
"You're hearing voices, hmmm? Not unusual at all. And if you pay close attention, you'll notice that the voices are not JENOVA. JENOVA has periods of dormancy, where she is relatively silent, but she's still in there, make no mistake. These voices will never shut up, and they'll be in there buzzing in the back of your head every waking moment. You'll gradually learn to tune them out, it'll take a while, but you will. But they will always be in there. I never could figure out exactly what they are, I guess it's sort of like always having a guilty conscience, one that will never let you be. " Hojo dipped the cloth into the pink-tinged water, continuing to scrub the blood from Vincent's face, uncovering ivory white under the crusty crimson mask. Now he could see Vincent's face much more clearly, unobscured by hair and blood. Two accusing red orbs settled on him, silently damning him for his sins, boring into him even now.  
  
"It's Crecia...she hates me...ah, she'll never, ever forgive me...I'm damned, damned for sure." Vincent sighed sadly, his mood shifting from anger to one of gloomy self hatred. Hojo had really only seen three of his moods this entire time. Hate, fear, and sorrow. He was sure the Turk had an entirely different personality with Lucrecia; he had to have had done more than hiss, moan, and frown. Even as temperamental as he was now, he still wasn't a monster, he was just pathetic for lack of a better word. He hadn't taunted Hojo with the fact he had stolen his wife as he had expected, although he had taunted Vincent plenty, about everything. And yet, though Vincent was no saint, Hojo felt that he had to be a thousand times as evil as the man who sat before him. Vincent had continually damned himself, cursed himself, broken completely over Lucrecia. And what had Hojo done? He had blamed someone else for everything, accepting none of the blame, refusing to admit he had been wrong. He was sorry about Lucrecia, but would he do it again given the chance?  
  
Yes. Yes he would, wouldn't hesitate to.  
  
And was he sorry about making Valentine suffer?  
  
Well...yes, on a lower degree. But he'd do it again. He'd not hesitate to shoot him, and give him over to his mistress all over again.  
  
As for the blame, Why should he accept it? It was all Valentine and JENOVA's fault, certainly not his own. He had merely gone along with everything, granted he had done JENOVA's dirty work, he had done it on her insistence. So in his mind he therefore he was blameless, and Lucrecia was merely a victim of circumstance. He felt no guilt for Lucrecia's death, and probably never would.  
  
Valentine was another matter. Hojo had begun with the intention of harming him, so it could not really be called an accident, he couldn't claim he did not know the consequences of what he had done. Nor could JENOVA be blamed entirely, she had not even come into play while he had originally entertained his thoughts of revenge. In fact, she had told him to let Valentine die, which he had refused to do, though looking back he realized this would be the wiser thing to do. She had in essence been punishing him for his disobedience by compelling him to inject her cells into Valentine; creating a very sticky situation, a formidable, unpredictable enemy, and gaining herself a new host to boot.  
  
So he was to blame for anything that happened to Valentine now, whether he accepted it or not. As little as he liked it, Valentine was his responsibility until Valentine's death. So as the icing on the cake, he now had to look after his rival. JENOVA had really outdone herself this time, he had to admit it.  
  
It was ironic he did not feel guilty over his own wife's death, but he was going insane with guilt over his biggest rival's situation. Hojo had never really felt guilty over anything before, he had always been able to blame it on JENOVA, blame it on his job, blame it on Valentine, blame it on Gast, blame it on anybody but himself. This time there was no one to blame but himself.  
  
"That just sucks, doesn't it? For once you'll have to take responsibility for your own actions, dear. Mother tried to warn you, but of course you didn't want to listen because you thought you knew better than Mother. Well? He's alive, you got what you wanted, now what will you do with him? After all, it wouldn't do for him to just wander out of the basement right out into the open, and expose your little experiment, now would it?" JENOVA had returned, not that she had ever left. "In fact, that really wouldn't do at all. You know that little fool, he just gets 'ideas', almost like someone else planted them there." She sang mischievously, shifting herself about much to Hojo's discomfort.  
  
"You wouldn't..." He retorted nervously, understanding perfectly what JENOVA had in mind. Gods, she was such a bitch, her spitefulness never failed to astound him. "If you do that, they'll take me away, and then who will be your drudge? As for Valentine, who knows what they will do with him, probably lock him up in a nut house or something. Maybe we'd be roommates." He finished bitterly, wishing JENOVA had a more tangible form so he could just strangle her, wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze until she was breathless, and he was satisfied,. But even if that was possible he sure as hell wouldn't do it, not with JENOVA up there capable of creating a bastard of a headache, manipulating his own body, or gods know what. Was he her devoted servant, or a grudging slave? Who knew, or indeed who cared? He'd do as she asked,, no commanded either way.  
  
"But it would be such fun," She twittered maliciously. "To see the look on everyone's face when that Turk bursts out of the basement with a loaded gun ready to kill all of them. To see the look on his face when he realizes Mother doesn't give a damn about him, and neither does Lucrecia. And most of all the look on your face when they drag you off to a nice quiet sanitarium where they take your shoelaces and belt and you walk around in a hospital gown all day and write home with a dull green crayon. Or maybe they'll send you off to prison. Such possibilities, and all of them would be so much fun to watch."  
  
"But if you did that, who would do for you? You never answered that." He was sure he had an ace up his sleeve, maybe a stained, bent, filthy card, but an ace nonetheless.  
  
"Have you forgotten the child?" Five chilling words ripped that card from him, tearing it into a thousand pieces and blowing the pieces into his disbelieving face. Dammit, she was right. "Anyway, who says Mother can't use you if she wants to? It doesn't matter to Mother where you are, if she wants to use you she'll do it. Think padded white walls will get you away from me? Think again."  
  
"Don't do this..."  
  
"Mother doesn't know, she might change her mind. If you're good..."  
  
"Fine," He sighed, still sponging off the pale man with the now red cloth, as if it were an automatic action. "Just don't do that. Don't tell Valentine things like you have, he doesn't know what's going on. Your dark humor is lost on him, he doesn't know he's being controlled, he doesn't see through your illusions. The joke is wasted on him. So why bother?"  
  
"Ah, Mr. Valentine is much brighter than you give him credit for. He understands. Sure, he's just a big stupid ape with a big scary gun in a blue suit, but he has an animal intelligence. That's not an entirely bad thing, sometimes more primitive things are the best. An angered beast is the ultimate killing machine, even more so than a Turk. No dull reason and no weak emotions to get in the way, just glorious, senseless mass slaughter. Like I've said, the man is little more than a beast, a filthy, smelly, idiotic animal that has to be restrained for his own good. But even the stupidest animal has some understanding. The game is simple, you kill him, he kills you. Either way I win. Even that moron could understand. Or are you just protecting him? Have you gone soft love?" JENOVA's wispy voice was playful, but it did not mask her cruel words. JENOVA thought little of either of them, they were just two meat puppets to play with till she tired of them, and then cut the strings that suspended them over a cavern of insanity.  
  
"No, it's just the man is dangerous, and confusing him makes him all the more so. I hate the bastard, but he is not in the best condition right now, so I have to take that into account. At the least I have to keep an eye on him, even if no one is here I can't have him wandering around the place," He reasoned quietly, brushing the crusty, flaking blood out of the Turk's hair with his pale fingers. The Turk sighed heavily, hearing all of JENOVA's threats echo from Hojo's skull straight to his own. Wouldn't she ever leave him alone? What did she plan to make him do?  
  
Would he do for her, be her obedient little killing machine, her stupid ape? Would she force him against his will, or even worse, twist his reasoning until he wanted to do as she asked? It was all so unnerving, so utterly frightening, that this...thing could have such power. Had the malicious voice tormented Lucrecia as well? He felt his anger grow at that; no one hurt his 'Crecia, be they a cold husband or a bitch of a space germ. What had she told 'Crecia?  
  
"What did you tell my 'Crecia? Did you do this to her, did you torture her like this?" The Turk drew himself up, to stand and face the eerie voice, almost if he could challenge her face to face. "Did you fester in her brain, haunt her dreams, tear down the loveliest structure on this Planet? Answer me!"  
  
"Just sit down, your arguing with her won't do anything, just sit down and shut up." Grasping his right arm he attempted to pull him down to the ground again succeeding only in making Vincent wobble a little. Despite the fuzziness in his head and the man's insistent tugging, he managed to stand his ground.  
  
"Don't stop him, dear. Mother loves to talk with her toys. You ask what the woman heard, Vincent love? Why don't you see for yourself, see first hand."  
  
Vincent immediately stumbled backwards, clutching his head, tears rolling out of his crimson eyes as JENOVA treated him with a demo of Lucrecia's agonies. The voices, mocking, accusing, sympathizing, angry, conspiratorial, representing a myriad of emotions pounded on him mercilessly, driving him down to the ground to shriek in suffering.  
  
"Does he know? He knows, I know it, he knows! He's just waiting to call you down on it, run while you can! Run away, it's all you can do! Run, and don't look back!"  
  
"You ungrateful wench, selfish little girl, just take everything and spit on it, go ahead! Leave your husband who has tried to help you and run to that Turk, he'll leave you, you watch, I know he will, that's his type. He'll leave you with that festering blob of tissues in your womb sucking you dry as we speak! Why would he want a monster such as yourself and that filthy cancer inside of you?!"  
  
"What did you expect to happen? Who knows, you may have even infected your precious Turk...given him to me as well. Wouldn't that be lovely? Mother would love to possess him as well."  
  
"Hojo never understood you; he doesn't love you. He only wanted to plant that wretched seed in you, and let it fester. Go with the Turk, he is your last chance for happiness, and for salvation from what you've done."  
  
"And you know what 'Crecia m'love? After the baby is born, I'm gonna keep growing, keep spreading out until I have inhabited every wretched cell your pathetic body has to offer...I won't stop with this diseased mass of tissues you call a womb. I will keep growing, and then..."  
  
"End it now, 'Crecia! Why bring a baby into the world only to have it ripped from you immediately after it's birth to be pricked and prodded by that quack you call a husband. Take the knife, and with your lifeblood blot out this transgression, this abomination you are nurturing inside of you. Leave this cold, cruel, unfair Planet and go on to the great green beyond. Why fight it? It has to be this way..."  
  
"Lucrecia..."  
  
"Lucrecia... my love..."  
  
"'CRECIA!"  
  
Then, silence. Vincent slowly rose to his knees, bloody tears streaking marbled white skin, steadily trickling down his cheeks to drip from his delicately pointed chin. This had been 'Crecia's torture, a whirling world of indecision, paranoia, fear, and illusions sired by her own guilt at what she was helping to bring about, and nurtured by the JENOVA in her. What had this gentle, caring woman, this fresh, pretty young creature done that was deserving of this unearthly torment? It was all so wrong!  
  
"Why? Why did you do this? Why did you torment her to insanity, use her so cruelly, and then crush her like so much used tissue? I loved her...How could you do this?!" He cried bitterly, beseeching the cold, stone-hearted entity with his broken words. "I don't understand..."  
  
JENOVA seemed to pause for a moment, contemplating this heart- breaking query delivered from her 'son's' bloodless lips. It was almost as if she were at a loss for words. Had this bitter lamentation melted her icy heart even in the least?  
  
Apparently not. JENOVA's pause had been more for dramatic flair than penitent silence. Ah, she had Valentine right where she wanted him, she knew exactly where she must strike to find the chink in his armor. All humans had some chink or another, a place where they could be prodded slowly but surely into insanity, and a few good pokes was usually all it would take.  
  
"Because you are a dumb beast. How could such as you ever hope to understand Mother's ways? And yes," she smirked cruelly, shifting her weight restlessly in Vincent's head, punctuating the ominous interjection with the ponderous motion. "Lucrecia...that wretched woman...she was no more than...a nut. Wouldn't you agree, Hojo?"  
  
"I..." Hojo could not bring himself to answer her. God's she was so cold. He had wondered himself exactly what Vincent had asked, and he knew what was coming. Best to let her finish, and let the poor man see the truth. What good would lying to him do at this point? Besides, he would only find it out later.  
  
"A nut...what a pun! See, a nut...holds a kernel. She was the shell...oho! I do love word plays, don't you? Quite a shell, too, by the end. Anyway, she was the shell that protected Mother's kernel. And everyone knows, once you've cracked your nut, and you have your kernel, you throw the broken shell away. So many metaphors, it's all quite rich. She was no more than an empty, babbling shell by the time Mother discarded her."  
  
"...tell me one thing,' the dark man whispered brokenheartedly, torn into a thousand pieces over everything. "does she...hate me?"  
  
"Oh, yes she certainly does! She curses you even now in the 'Lifestream'. I'll let you in on a secret, Turk. There is no refuge from the madness Mother brings, even in death. 'Crecia went straight to Hell. Not the fiery place with the red guy holding a pitchfork. No, there are no demons in this Hell." She smiled widely at the horror manifesting itself on Vincent's face, the horror she could see clearly from behind Hojo's brown eyes and feel keenly from her residence in Vincent's head. Ah, he was feeling this! She had made a very good poke indeed. A few more well placed ones would probably suffice in bending his mind into the insanity she wanted.  
  
"The only demons," she continued, "are her hate-filled heart, her diseased mind, and of course Mother. She dwells inside of Mother now, rocked into tormented slumber by insanity. And the thing is, you helped break her, Valentine."  
  
* * *  
  
(end part five) 


	6. Cherished Rival part six

Author's Note: This originally was just one long story, but for convenience I've decided to split it into several parts, and post them within a few days of each other. Thanks to darknightdestiny for the idea of splitting it up, it IS more manageable this way. I'm not gonna lie, this is a very dark demented fic. It has an 'R' rating due to its general twisted-ness, gore, and Hojo's potty-mouth. You've been warned...  
  
Part six is here. ugh, I'm horrible with descriptions as you can no doubt see. More JENOVA trippiness, and insanity ensues. I just want to say thanks to everyone that's still reading this. It's been a long, weird trip, and it's not going to be over anytime soon.  
  
~ Rene (seasonofthepumpkin)  
  
* * *  
  
"No...no...*no*" he wept, tearing violently into his face with both hands. His left hand had regenerated up to the first knuckle, making it semi- effective at clawing flesh. JENOVA had clarified what he feared most. Lucrecia hated him.  
  
With that, JENOVA left the haunted man alone with his grief and self hate to let her words sink in to have the most devastating effect possible. Some things took time. Sure, she could break him instantly, snap his mind with out a second thought, but it was so much more rewarding to wear him away little by little. She still felt the thrill of domination every time she pricked his heart with her cruel words, she doubted she would ever grow tired of hearing him cry. And if she did, oh well. She'd just crush him then and there. Either way she had fun.  
  
"No..." Vincent whispered, hugging himself desperately, trying to recover from this latest blow. She hated him, what was there left to live for? Why prolong his misery, and live forever in the shadow of what could have been? Why remain here in the world and be a big red blotch on her pure memory? His living angel was no more, and her love for him had soured with her passing. Her human frailty had been lifted from her upon death, and she had finally seen him for the selfish, evil creature he was.  
  
Vincent's sobs gave way to silence with that thought. He rocked himself evenly, pondering exactly what he had left to live for. It would be oh so easy to end it now, but what right did he have to relief from this? He had gotten what he deserved, at least he could take his punishment like a man. What good was it for him to continue living, when she was gone, and yet what good would it be for him to kill himself to be with her when she hated him? There was no way out.  
  
Hojo stared at his wracked ward, not knowing what to say or do. The man was breaking, that was for sure. Perhaps he would go insane as well, and join Lucrecia in her 'Hell'. With that thought, he frowned deeply.  
  
When JENOVA spoke of 'breaking' Valentine, she wasn't talking about crushing his spirit the way Hojo had wanted to do. He had only wanted to see the man utterly crushed and defeated. JENOVA wanted to strain him to the breaking point, to drive him insane bit by bit, to reduce him to a true animal unfettered by reason. Insanity would not be a good thing right now, especially with the hellish powers Valentine possessed now.  
  
So Hojo had one of two options; let the man keep clutching himself and rocking into dangerous insanity, or going over there and trying to calm the guy down with the possibility of attack. The choice was obvious, as little as it appealed to him. Sure, comforting a hysterical shape-shifter was up on the top of his 'Fun Things to Do" list. Right up there with waking a grizzly bear from hibernation and stepping in a fire ant mound. But it had to be done.  
  
He cautiously approached the pallid man, taking care not to make excessive noise and startle the man. Who knew, a sudden sound might be all it would take to drive him over the edge.  
  
Vincent felt Hojo's presence before he drew within 10 feet of him; he could hear him breathe, and smell the apprehension on him. Vincent smiled wryly; he didn't want this man around to talk to him, he wanted to be alone with his hurt, to lick his wounds in solitude. Why did people always automatically assume someone who's been hurt wants their company and attentions? In most cases, those who took the cruel jabs fortune hurled their way simply wanted to be alone to reflect on what had happened; they had no want for sympathy. As Vincent had no want for Hojo.  
  
"Valentine-"  
  
"Go away. Just go away, and leave me be." He intoned darkly, wiping his face as he rose to his feet intent on fleeing to some dark corner as far away from Hojo as humanly possible. Hojo of course followed, albeit cautiously as was understandable. The way he was acting he could go off at any moment. Perhaps he could reason with him, it certainly wouldn't hurt to try. One could reason with almost anything, and if you couldn't persuade it you were right, at the least you probably wouldn't set it off.  
  
"Now you know I can't do that. I have to keep an eye-"  
  
"Damn your eyes!" he shouted, whirling around to face the scientist fangs bared, "And damn my arm for that matter! It doesn't matter now, she hates me, she's gone, you won!" Vincent's eyes blazed unholy crimson as he spat these words out like fiery coals. Hojo winced, this did not look good at all, JENOVA might have her way sooner than she thought. In the heat of his outburst Vincent pushed roughly past Hojo to seek shelter under the desk. He was so fucking tired of all of this, everything hurt, and he just wanted to be left alone. He needed to think, even though thinking hurt.  
  
Because he would be thinking of her. Even if she declared her hatred a thousand times he would never do the same even once. He would never hate Lucrecia. He could never renounce his love for her; no more than a bird could renounce the air or the beautiful siren could renounce the water from which she came. Lucrecia was a part of him, a part he needed, a part he could never give up. Even if she hated him.  
  
Would he go to her? A part of him ached to lie with her in death, to go on to angel's feathers or to acrid flames. As long as he could be with her it didn't matter. He would follow her to the depths of despair, or to gardens of red, eternal red, redder than his eyes or the innocent blood that stained his hands. Redder than the raw wound she left on his soul when she left him, redder than a thousand autumn leaves.  
  
Love was red, he reasoned as he absentmindedly chewed on his right hand's index finger, a nervous habit since childhood. Love was very red indeed, like the wine colored rose that pricked the lover's fingers and spilt the ruby red blood. Love was beautiful yet it hurt sometimes. Love was roses and blood. Red.  
  
Wasn't that why distraught lovers killed themselves in their beloved's passing? So they could go to be with them in that crimson garden? He supposed so; why shouldn't he? Maybe if he shuffled of this mortal coil she would see how much he cared, how sorry he was. Maybe she would forgive him. And if she could forgive him, maybe, just maybe...  
  
They could go on to the crimson gardens as well.  
  
* * *  
  
Valentine seemed to have calmed down since his latest outburst leaving the room in uneasy silence. The glowering light in his hellish red eyes had turned to a soft shimmer of quiet contemplation. A definite nostalgic air hung thickly about him, cutting him off from the present world.  
  
Hojo frowned for the umpteenth time that evening.  
  
Rapid mood swings. That could be bad, or good, depending on the circumstance and his present state of mind. It couldn't be good for him to sit there totally absorbed in his little world, yet it was far better than hysterically screaming about 'Crecia mindless as to his words and actions.  
  
He was still debating whether he should let him be, or to rouse him from this dreamy state when an almost impossibly low utterance on Vincent's part shattered the silence.  
  
"I think madness...it must be red as well," he blinked his sleepy red eyes tiredly, his tranquil gaze almost hypnotic. "She wants me to go insane so I will do her work for her. JENOVA." He smiled weakly on his first utterance of the thrice-damned name. "I don't want to...even though I have to..." The sad smile still hung heavy on his face as he sighed, and hugged himself tighter.  
  
It was all very disturbing in its own way, that one could say such things so calmly, with nary a shred of emotion in the voice. Or rather with such a defeated, accepting demeanor, as if he had finally been beaten down to the status of a loyal but dumb beast. And to smile as he acknowledged JENOVA's plans. That had been the bitterest blow of all. He wasn't the idiot that he and JENOVA had made him out to be after all. He had heard everything, and understood it at that. Worst of all, he seemed to have accepted it.  
  
"I have to go to her...though hell should bar the way." His voice grew stronger with that statement, then dropped again as he continued. He looked up at Hojo who stood by passively, listening to the man's seemingly irrelevant mumbling.  
  
For a long, uncomfortable moment the roles of specimen and scientist were reversed. Vincent turned to Hojo, studying him with a searching eye. Not knowing what to do, Hojo simply stood there and bore the scrutiny quietly. After what seemed like an eternity to the nervous doctor, Vincent sighed and cast his eyes down again, breaking the contact. With that strange, bitter-sweet smile Vincent drew his knees up closer to his chest and sat quietly, reflecting on all that had flitted through his mind the last few minutes.  
  
Hojo still made no movement or speech, thoughtfully gazing down at the Turk silently. He looked so tired, so utterly beaten. Something in that melancholic smile revealed an almost unbearable hopelessness that Hojo didn't want to face.  
  
Valentine had aged 20 years overnight; a new wisdom shone through the bloody red irises, and with that wisdom came an infinite sadness he could never understand. Nor did he want to. His eyes were so old now, the eyes of an old man who had seen everything the world had to offer and somehow understood it all. That understanding brought a sick little smile to his face, a smile that revealed but a fraction of it.  
  
"I wonder," he murmured so softly Hojo had to lean forward to hear the mumbled words. "If I will ever enter that garden." As he uttered those mysterious words he still wore the perpetual smile that expressed his sorrow more aptly than an ocean of tears ever could. It was a world-weary, tired, patient smile that bore into Hojo's soul so deeply he couldn't bear to look at it any longer.  
  
What did he mean? What garden? Had he finally snapped? Hojo didn't consciously understand, but a deeper part of him did somewhat. Looking back years from now he never would know what possessed him to answer as he did that night. He had answered the question without ever understanding it fully.  
"...perhaps you will one day." He answered quietly, staring into the darkness morosely.  
  
* * *  
  
He had decided. He would go to Lucrecia, and join her on the other side. He refused to be divided by this cold wall of death. How could he ever hope to live without her? In her passing she had taken the best of him with her, and he could never be the same again. His life was over, and it had ended the moment hers had. His world had finally come down. And most ironically, he had been the one to bring it down.  
  
How had he ever gotten along before he had met her? He didn't know, and he didn't want to. All he knew was that once he had loved her, his life had never been the same. He didn't want to go back to a life without her.  
  
Thoughts of 'Crecia, both good and bad had been the only thing that had kept him going this long. Remembering the way the sunlight had danced playfully on her long auburn hair, the way her eyes had sparkled, her smile, her laugh, and most of all, her love. In essence, thoughts of her gave him the strength to go on, living only for the next snatch of memories to temporarily ease the pain in his heart. Her memories would sustain him to his death, until he could meet her again.  
  
He had built a wall around the fear of her hatred, denying the possibility she no longer loved but loathed him. He would still go to her even if she spat in his face. Maybe if she saw how he suffered for her she would forgive him at least, let this curse of guilt leave him once and for all.  
  
But did he really want it to leave? The intense guilt he suffered seemed at times to be the only sign that he had truly loved her. Why else why would it pain him so? Did he want to drop that perennial token of his love for her?  
  
Perhaps in his own way he was as sick as Hojo.  
  
* * *  
  
Hojo approached Vincent with the wary caution of one attempting to slip past a lightly dozing pit bull. He hadn't moved at all from his spot under the desk. He must have found the snugness and darkness of the small niche appealing, or even comforting.  
  
Personally, Hojo couldn't see himself staying curled up into a tight little ball in such a small place for more than five minutes, when Valentine had remained undisturbed like that for at least four hours, and it looked as though he could take another four easily.  
  
He was still chewing on that finger, he noted tiredly. At this rate Valentine might need a new finger as well. He would either gnaw it off or it would disintegrate from being in his mouth so much. Anyway, it was almost as bad as thumb-sucking and nail-biting in his book, a disgusting habit no doubt held over from Valentine's pre-school days.  
  
Hojo's mum had always scolded him for chewing his nails as a child. "If you keep that up, you'll gnaw off the ends of your fingertips, and rot will set in. Don't come crying to me when your hand turns green and falls off." She had rolled black electric tape around the ends of his fingers so tightly it had cut off the circulation and sunk into the grotesquely puffed up flesh. His father had removed the tape just in time to avoid permanent damage to the hand. He had stopped biting them after that.  
  
Hojo stretched languidly, twisting his weary bones back into place making satisfying cracks as they did so. He was tired, about now he would have iced his own mother for a few minutes of shut eye.  
  
Actually, he'd had plenty of opportunities to get some rest today as Valentine had been virtually motionless all morning locked away in some dream world of his own creation as he lay quietly under that damned desk. He almost wished it would collapse on him, just to see if he would come out then.  
  
Valentine was withdrawing. Hojo supposed he had been doing so ever since the beginning , but it had become more blatantly obvious lately. He obviously appreciated the security of his enclosure, a substitute womb of sorts shielding him from the world he did not want to face.  
  
Was he sleeping? Hojo hoped he was, at least that would provide a temporary respite from his misery and any more attacks by JENOVA on his sanity. He slowly, carefully knelt down to observe Valentine at his own level. Yes, he did seem to be sleeping. His breaths were measured and even, his body relaxed, and his face blank with the veil of slumber.  
  
He wasn't nearly as much trouble now, no fears of monsters leaping out at him, no hours of crying to disturb him, and no needs to tend to. If only it could be like this all the time...  
  
Where had that come from? Hojo sat down on the floor weakly, shaking his head in confusion. He had created Valentine, now he was responsible for him. He couldn't just dump him off in a bed somewhere and leave him to his own devices. That would be, however relieving on his part, unthinkable.  
  
At least he could get a little sleep of his own now, and ease the dull lethargic weight dragging at his brain, Even JENOVA had shut up. Perhaps she was tired too. He knew that this wasn't probable, but he was too exhausted to correct himself. Surely Valentine wouldn't get into any trouble; he'd probably sleep the whole time. He could rest, at least for a little while.  
  
Heading up the rickety circular stairs to the first floor, he took a last glance back at the library before continuing on his way.  
  
Valentine would eventually give into the pressure JENOVA was applying to him and become her mindless destroyer, perhaps a bit prematurely, but he would. He couldn't afford to have a psychopathic monster scampering about the building, god knew there were already enough of those here. In the event he did go insane, Hojo would have to be prepared. He would need some way to keep Valentine safely in check. As well equipped as the lab was there were no strait-jackets or manacles or anything of the sort. He slowly scanned the room for anything that might give him an idea. Then it came to him.  
  
A cell. Valentine needed to be placed in a holding cell of some sort, perhaps an unused room somewhere out of the way that would have no unwanted visitors prowling about at all hours. He could install a lock if there wasn't already one and he would be good to go. As long as Valentine stayed relatively quiet, and Hojo took care not to approach the room so often it would draw suspicion no one would ever know. He beamed, weariness lifted for the moment. Finally he had a solution to his present problem.  
  
Of course there would be a few technicalities, some bugs to work out, and it was a temporary fix at best, but he'd worry about that later. He was feeling pretty good now, and damned if he'd spoil it with petty details.  
  
There was one 'petty detail' he'd have to work out right now. Where the hell would this room be? Most of the rooms, if not already occupied by a full time tenant were at least ventured into several times a day. That wouldn't do. He needed an empty, purposeless (and preferably well insulated) room that he could lock up and no one would be the wiser.  
  
He could use an old storage closet he supposed, but even that would eventually be disturbed. Some moron looking for a note book or something would stumble onto his dirty little secret snoozing in there. Even if he locked it up, the question of exactly why the closet was locked would no doubt rear it's ugly head.  
  
It needed to be somewhere out of the way, somewhere there would be no reason at all to enter. Then, if Valentine stayed quiet, and he was nonchalant about the whole thing it should be smooth sailing from there out.  
  
Then, he stopped.  
  
The answer was not to be found upstairs. it had been right under his nose the entire time.  
  
* * * (end part six) 


	7. Cherished Rival part seven

AN:  
  
This is part seven. Yes. I know this one is short. But I'm working up to something. Sides, this is a multiple post, so it isn't a total cliffhanger. :P  
  
The burial chamber in the basement. The original owners way back when had built a crypt into the basement to house the deceased members of their clan, and it had remained undisturbed as long as Shin-Ra had inhabited the mansion. The research team had ventured down there out of curiosity right after being assigned here only to walk out of the room in disgust swearing they didn't need the extra space that badly.  
  
No one had even been near it since then as far as he knew.  
  
It fit all of his criteria, out of the way; unlikely to be entered, and well insulated. Sure, a little moldy, decrepit and well...creepy, but it would serve his purposes. He could clean it up somewhat, stick a mat in there for Valentine to sleep on, a lantern and maybe a book or two that wouldn't be missed from the library. He would try to make him comfortable down there, and take him food when he could. It would work out.  
  
Still exhausted, but determined to finalize the plan, he made his way back down the stairs to the basement. He had a lot of work to do, best to get started now.  
  
* * *  
  
Vincent had finally released himself from his rigid position under the desk and now sat soberly in the corner, eyes closed in concentration. Hojo had left the room, Vincent didn't know where he had gone, nor did he care. At least he was gone. For all he cared Hojo could have run off with a gypsy caravan as long as he was gone.  
  
What JENOVA was demanding was simply unbearable, he couldn't let her drive him to insanity but what could he do? Could he resist her with his battered body and anguished mind and even hope to beat her? JENOVA was evil incarnate, and he was just a stupid lovesick beast. How could he hope to resist?  
  
Like Hojo, his prayers had been answered; he had a solution to his problem. And it was so brain-numbingly simple he was chagrined to think he had not put it into effect earlier. The simplest things often were the most frequently overlooked things. But simplest was also often best.  
  
He would not yield to JENOVA. He would not yield to Hojo. He would cheat them both, leave them standing there stupidly scratching their heads wondering why they hadn't seen it coming.  
  
The man who had cheated death countless times would now attempt to cheat the life he had been restored to against his will.  
  
His eyes fell onto the shiny metal scalpel Hojo had carelessly left lying on the desktop. The steel glinted enticingly, beckoning to him, offering him the simple solution he had decided on. It was so near, so very near. Only a few steps away, and then his misery would be over.  
  
"Take me" it seemed to say, reflecting the dim light of the desk lamp, sending cold little rays of light onto the dark wood. "Take me Vincent." Just like in 'Alice in Wonderland', Vincent cast in the little girl's role, and the shiny scalpel in place of the little bottle labeled 'Drink Me'.  
  
Vincent had decided he had been in Wonderland long enough and it was time to go home to her now. Maybe it would be just like the book, all a dream. But even if it wasn't at least he would be with her again. And all he had to do was do as the scalpel suggested, and take it. He steadily rose to his feet, and with more poise and grace than he ever knew he possessed approached his salvation. It was so cool, so refreshingly heavy in his hand.  
  
He stood there a long moment admiring this key to eternity, turning it over and over in his good hand, and admiring its cold beauty. Still feasting his eyes on deliverance, he said a silent prayer of forgiveness, although he addressed it to no known gods. It was to her. It was always to her, for her, everything for her. Even this was for her. Ending his prayer, he stared penitently to the heavens.  
  
He was ready. 


	8. Cherished Rival part eight

AN:  
  
This is part eight. I will be shocked and amazed if anyone is still reading this. I know I haven't updated in  
  
a kabillion years, but I am in a better position to do things now then I was previously.  
  
I want to tell everyone who's been waiting on these posts I'm truly sorry it took so  
  
long, but I swear you won't be disappointed.  
  
* * *  
  
"Hojo."  
  
He looked up from the growing pile of rubbish he was clearing away from the  
  
farthest corner of the crypt, not knowing what to expect. Had they returned without  
  
his hearing them? Had he been found out? Had they already seen Valentine lying on the  
  
library floor? He held his breath and waited.  
  
"Hojo!"  
  
He shakily released his breath, sighing as he shook his head slowly. It was only  
  
her, who else would it be? He scolded himself for panicking over nothing. He really needed  
  
to get a firm grip on reality.  
  
"It's you. What is it?' he mumbled, shoving an occupied coffin away from the wall,  
  
nudging an ancient flower vase with what remained of a water-stained silk flower with  
  
the tip of his shoe. She really came at the most inconvenient times.  
  
JENOVA wasted no time with her usual pleasantries, mocking dialogue and cruelty.  
  
She was quick and to the point for once. "Vincent. Go to him."  
  
"Why?" Vincent was right where he left him, lying under the desk asleep, wasn't  
  
he? He had peeked in upon returning to the basement, and he hadn't moved an inch.  
  
What was her deal? Couldn't she see he was busy trying to cover up their little problem?  
  
Gods, the bitch could be so impatient at times!  
  
"Don't question Mother, you fool!" Hojo grabbed his head, wincing at the throbbing  
  
pain reverberating in there. It wasn't the hardest blow she had ever dealt him, but it  
  
was enough to hurt like hell. That was one thing he would never get used to, her god  
  
damned headaches and head tricks.  
  
He dropped the coffin lid he had been in the process of moving and raced back to  
  
the library, unsure of what would greet him.  
  
* * *  
  
"What are you doing? Put that down!" No, this couldn't be what it  
  
looked like, it just couldn't. Perhaps the lighting was playing tricks on  
  
his eyes. Maybe this was all a hallucination induced by sleep deprivation.  
  
Surely this wasn't happening.  
  
Upon hearing Hojo's rather dramatic entrance, Vincent turned to face him  
  
fully, confirming his fears. He casually held the scalpel in his right hand,  
  
paying no mind to the blade that dug into his palm drawing even more blood to  
  
contribute to the growing puddle. He managed a small smile before he fell to his  
  
knees, weak from blood loss. He could feel the life draining from him, a curiously  
  
light-headed feeling that made him frightened and relieved simultaneously. Surely  
  
his time was drawing near; he could feel himself lapsing into shock by the second.  
  
He would be with her very shortly.  
  
Still clutching the scalpel defiantly as his world began to fade the smile  
  
fell from his lips.  
  
Suddenly, with the worst timing (in Vincent's opinion) JENOVA decided  
  
to make an appearance. He agreed with Hojo on one thing; she had a knack  
  
for showing up when you least wanted her to. She was like an unannounced visit  
  
from your mother-in-law when you haven't cleaned your house in two weeks.  
  
Like the boss that called you into work on the night of the big bash everybody  
  
is going to. Like the guy who calls you at midnight wanting a ride from  
  
the airport when you've brought your date home with you. Only much, much worse.  
  
Bad things happened when JENOVA decided that she wanted to put her two cents in.  
  
"You little fool!" she hissed vehemently. Vincent felt a brain numbing  
  
spasm rip through his left arm burning like red-hot coals. "Exactly what,  
  
pray tell, did you think you were doing? Did you really think you could escape  
  
Mother that way? Ha! Don't forget, ingrate, I own this body. I own you! You'll  
  
not get away with this."  
  
Vincent cried out in anguish as the burning sensation continued to torture  
  
his limb. JENOVA obviously was not a believer in taking the easy way out.  
  
The wrists he had labored so to cut had already begun to clot, drying up  
  
any hope he had of joining Lucrecia in death. Why had she chosen to  
  
show now? With all of her power why hadn't she prevented the attempt before  
  
it had happened? Had she been trying to instill fake hope in him only to  
  
ground it quickly with grim reality? Who knew, he had given up trying to  
  
understand JENOVA's strange ways.  
  
"No..." To be denied this peace was far too cruel for him to bear. He couldn't  
  
live with his guilt, and now he couldn't even die. And he had been so damned close!  
  
Only another minute or so and it would have been over. He could have been with her  
  
right this moment. Now what did he have to look forward to, to survive for? He had  
  
nothing after all. He should have known they wouldn't let him die. Not when they could  
  
have him here to torment with his past, present, and future. It just wasn't fair.  
  
"You'll have to learn your lesson the hard way it seems. You must take after Hojo.  
  
Pity, and you have so much potential just waiting for me to claim. Well, if that's the  
  
way you'll have it, so be it. Enjoy."  
  
His arm continued to burn with a new intensity, more painful than anything he had ever  
  
experienced before. Hell, this pain made the gunshot wound, the earlier rotting of his  
  
arm and his aching body seem like small potatoes in comparison.  
  
"I'll do it again, you bitch! Do you hear me?!" he cried, cradling his limp  
  
arm protectively. The agony continued for a few more excruciating moments then  
  
ceased as abruptly as it had begun. JENOVA only smirked at his outburst, turning  
  
her attentions to Hojo.  
  
"Take good care of your little specimen, dear. I don't think he feels too  
  
well right now. His color is very bad, even for him. Hmph. He played with fire,  
  
let him burn. It's only fitting."  
  
"What did you do to him?" Hojo's eyes were riveted on the pathetic creature,  
  
crying his eyes out, clutching that arm so tightly as though he expected it to  
  
slither away at any moment. This looked really, really bad. Wasn't it enough that  
  
he had almost succeeded in killing himself? Did she have to do this as well?  
  
"...well, let's just say Mother decided to let some of the beast within  
  
more apparent."  
  
"What do you mean...?" 


	9. Cherished Rival part nine

AN:  
  
This is part nine. I will be shocked and amazed if anyone is still reading this. I know I haven't updated in  
  
a kabillion years, but I am in a better position to do things now then I was previously.  
  
I want to tell everyone who's been waiting on these posts I'm truly sorry it took so  
  
long, but I swear you won't be disappointed.  
  
* * *  
  
Vincent sat morosely in the desk chair Hojo had helped him into shortly  
  
after the attack. He cradled his weary head in his good hand as Hojo examined  
  
the monstrous appendage JENOVA had bestowed on him as punishment for his latest  
  
transgression against her will.  
  
It really wasn't a pretty sight. The flesh had swollen outlandishly, the skin  
  
torn in places where it hadn't been elastic enough to conform to the deformed  
  
muscles that lay beneath. Blackened bits of chemically burned bone poked through  
  
the nasty mass of tissues that now comprised his left forearm, making Hojo's stomach  
  
turn with revulsion which was no small feat. This unquestionably had to be  
  
the sickest, sorriest mess he'd ever had the bad fortune to observe.  
  
"There's not really much I can do. She's changed it, and I can't reverse the  
  
damage. About the only thing I can do is cover it with something less repulsive.  
  
I know you can hardly stand to look at it. I don't blame you really.  
  
It's disgusting. Looks kinda like a squirrel I ran over once. A week afterwards."  
  
He gently released the arm, leaving it to fall limply onto the desktop making a sick  
  
thudding noise.  
  
"There's something else. I don't think she plans to continue regenerating the  
  
last of your hand. If you ever want to use it again, you'll have to have a  
  
prosthetic of some sort. It shouldn't be too difficult; after all I only have to  
  
replace the fingers from the knuckle up. While I'm at it I'll work something out  
  
to cover that disgusting thing up."  
  
Vincent didn't respond to this observation, just slouched down in the chair,  
  
head bowed. Hojo supposed he was sulking over his botched suicide attempt.  
  
He really didn't blame Valentine for that either. He supposed he would have  
  
done so long ago if he weren't so afraid to face the uncharted territory  
  
that lay beyond life. Even before JENOVA had come into his life, he'd been sorely tempted.  
  
It was so funny how people complained about how miserable their lives were  
  
without having any idea how easy they really had it. He'd been the same way,  
  
thinking his life was unbearably horrible and couldn't possibly get any worse.  
  
All through high school he'd thought it, in college he thought it, all the  
  
way through med school up unto the day he gave himself over to JENOVA.  
  
Then he'd realized just how insignificant all of his troubles had been before  
  
compared to what he had now. Before he'd only worried about bullies wanting  
  
to stuff him in garbage cans, passing final exams, paying his rent and all  
  
the other trite things in his life. Now he had an unstable shape shifter  
  
and an alien bitch that took delight in fucking things up for him to deal with.  
  
Everything else was suddenly very, very insignificant compared to this.  
  
But even with all the problems he had now he'd never renounce JENOVA. He'd given  
  
her far too much to just give it up like that. He'd invested too much  
  
labor into this, and done too much. He'd killed, destroyed, ruined countless lives  
  
all in her name. He just couldn't afford to.  
  
He embraced his suffering.  
  
Valentine embraced his as well, he reasoned, studying the  
  
distraught man impassively. He seemed to accept his lot as just more punishment  
  
for failing Lucrecia. How he managed to be so narrow minded escaped Hojo. Everything  
  
was for her. Everything that happened to him was a result of his 'sin',  
  
and he refused to see it otherwise. If the chair he was sitting in gave out  
  
under him, he'd very likely take it as penalization for his inadequacy.  
  
He needed his suffering to reassure himself he was sorry for his imaginary sin,  
  
and to show her that as well.  
  
Even though he'd sought release, in doing so he still was punishing himself.  
  
Who knew, perhaps he believed his suffering would absolve his sin.  
  
He really was just kicking himself in the teeth and enjoying it. He enjoyed  
  
his misery, as much as he tried to escape it. A real masochist at heart.  
  
"I'm going to work on prosthesis for you, but first things first. I've  
  
found a place for you." He watched Vincent out of the corner of his eye, waiting  
  
for any sort of response. He wasn't disappointed. Valentine withdrew himself from  
  
his little world long enough to look up at him with a perplexed expression. Hojo  
  
sighed, and continued. "They're coming back, you know. Gast and the others.  
  
I don't know when, but it could be any time. See, I can't have you laying all  
  
spaced out on the floor when that happens. It just wouldn't work out well y'know.  
  
I'd have a helluva a lot of explaining to do, and I wouldn't even have a clue where  
  
to start."  
  
"...you're putting me somewhere." Good, he was catching on. Perhaps  
  
this wouldn't be as difficult as he had thought. Hastily he continued while he  
  
had Valentine's attention. If he played his cards right he might not only have  
  
his consent; he might even convince him to walk down there himself.  
  
"Somewhere safe," he added, taking Vincent by the arm trying not to look  
  
at the mangled limb on the opposite side and led him to the crypt before he  
  
could change his mind and resist. Happily for him, Vincent consented to being  
  
led into this dark, unfamiliar territory without protest.  
  
Actually, Valentine wasn't really much trouble at all now. He seemed to  
  
have realized the futility of his situation finally, and deemed it not  
  
worth fighting. All he really did now was sleep hours on end or sit glumly  
  
immersed in thought. Pretty depressing, but it beat the hell out of the long  
  
crying jags he went on.  
  
Hojo hadn't finished clearing out the room completely, but it would do for now.  
  
At least he had moved all the really creepy stuff away from the corner he had set  
  
up for Vincent. He hadn't found a mat, but he had tossed a thick army issue blanket  
  
down for him. It would keep him off the dirt floor anyway. It would do for now, till  
  
he brought more stuff down for him. After he finished with the prosthetic hand he could  
  
start working on the room.  
  
It was so dark he could barely see Hojo, which was kinda nice he had to admit.  
  
At least the place had some perks. He'd never been down here before, as the door was  
  
left locked. He'd never even really wondered what lay behind the wooden door he passed  
  
several times daily. He'd always supposed it was another storage room, and what was there  
  
to be curious about in there? Boxes of old clothes, old magazines, holiday decorations,  
  
furniture, run of the mill stuff. He'd never been tempted to peek in, nor to even ask what  
  
was in there.  
  
He heard the click of a lighter and turned to see Hojo lighting a small kerosene  
  
lantern, mumbling about what a pain in the ass it was to be without electricity. Finally,  
  
the room was illuminated with the flickering light, bringing life to the shadows.  
  
Vincent's eyes widened at the carnage that lay before him in this 'store room'.  
  
Hojo had pretty much shoved all the inhabited coffins off to one side and kicked  
  
everything littering the floor off into an empty corner. That didn't really help any.  
  
This still had to be the creepiest place Vincent had ever been inside of.  
  
There were bodies in those boxes, for chrissakes! True, they probably were  
  
little more than piles of bone and cloth by now, but still! Of all places,  
  
Hojo had to bring him down here. The air was so musty he could scarcely breathe  
  
without waves of revulsion skittering up his spine. And this was the  
  
'safe place' he had been talking about. Feh.  
  
"I know it's kinda creepy down here, but you'll get used to it," Vincent  
  
parted his lips as to say something, but no words came out. Hojo looked up  
  
from the lantern, and something resembling a smirk painted itself upon his face.  
  
"Close your mouth, who knows what might drop in." Vincent gave him a quizzical look,  
  
and shifted his eyes to the ceiling. Spiders. A shitload of spiders in their gauzy  
  
webs right over his head. Narrowing his red eyes, he balefully glowered at the  
  
scientist, mouth turned down in a frown.  
  
"Don't worry, I doubt they'll drop down or anything, and even if they did  
  
I'm sure they're not poisonous. " He gestured to the far corner of the room that  
  
he had set up for Vincent, setting the lantern down. "I cleared this corner for  
  
you to sleep in, read in, hell, you're welcome to do anything you want to in it.  
  
Just keep quiet, that's all I ask. No noise coming out of here, understood? The  
  
walls are nice and thick, but I don't want to take any unnecessary chances. I  
  
know it's not exactly Kalm Inn, but it's a place. And it's safe."  
  
He had to be kidding. How long would Hojo leave him down here? A day?  
  
A month? A year? The rest of his life? He really didn't want to know.  
  
He studied the indicated corner; the lantern's light barely driving the  
  
darkness away. It was fitting. He finally was being dumped like so much  
  
guilty trash. Hojo was hell bent on keeping him down here, so resisting  
  
wouldn't really do him any good. Besides, didn't he deserve it?  
  
Part of him was angry with Hojo for leaving him in this crypt, and expecting  
  
him to shrink away into the shadows, out of his way for good. Anger surged up only  
  
to be checked by his guilt, reminding him he deserved what ever came his way. Even  
  
this. But still, he wasn't exactly thrilled with his new residence.  
  
"Go on, settle in. You'll have to get used to it just like everything else  
  
. Just give it some time, and you'll be okay." He said in a soft, vaguely patronizing  
  
voice only to be brushed off by the Turk.  
  
"It's JENOVA, isn't it?" Wrapping his arms around himself to combat  
  
the chill in the air, he cast a knowing expression Hojo's way. "She told  
  
you she would force me to kill, and now you're locking me up like a rabid dog.  
  
Are you afraid of me Hojo?"  
  
"...I can't say that I'm not, after all you are quite...enhanced now."  
  
He replied, trying to choose his words carefully. Vincent smiled again,  
  
lowering his head tiredly.  
  
"Then why wouldn't you just let me die? Why did you have to stop me?  
  
To torment me more? Don't you think I have enough pain in my life without this?  
  
Just knowing she's gone and that I won't be seeing her for a long, long time is  
  
torture..." He sighed, hugging himself tighter almost as if trying to retreat into himself.  
  
"JENOVA wouldn't let you die," he began quietly. "I had nothing to do with that.  
  
She just doesn't want to let you go. " Dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper,  
  
he continued. "She wants you to suffer, that's what it is. You know what a  
  
cold-hearted bitch she is. Though I'm quite a cold-hearted bastard myself  
  
I must admit." he finished with a chuckle.  
  
"I don't want to stay down here." He replied, changing the subject abruptly. So he  
  
had finally said it. Hojo knew it would eventually come up, and he was  
  
pretty sure he knew the outcome. Judging from what he had surmised of Vincent's  
  
character he would protest a little, maybe resist a bit, but he would take it in  
  
stride all in the name of atoning. Why Valentine even bothered to protest was beyond him.  
  
He always gave in anyway, despite his half-hearted resistance. Hojo had decided that  
  
Valentine was in a sense, a glutton for punishment. Going on that, he  
  
supposed that Valentine derived a sort of temporary relief from his guilt  
  
while he was suffering for her, and protesting was just to cover it up.  
  
Or maybe he enjoyed that too, who knew.  
  
"Poor thing. I know you don't want to, but you're going to have to, at  
  
least for a while. It's not like I'm leaving you down here to starve or anything.  
  
I'll be in and out of here periodically. Just sit tight, and I'll be back in a  
  
while." He slowly, but steadily was making his way to the door, unnoticed by the  
  
Turk who was fearfully studying the shadows cast on the walls by the lantern. He  
  
looked up just as he was almost out.  
  
"But-" With surprising speed, Hojo withdrew through the door, hastily pulling  
  
it to after him. The loud click of the dead bolt being turned echoed through the  
  
silent room like a gunshot. Hojo stood outside the door for a moment,  
  
half expecting Vincent to scream and batter the door with his poor  
  
deformed hand, to burst out crying for Hojo to release him.  
  
The howling protest had not begun yet, and perhaps it wouldn't  
  
at all. Hojo had tried to make it bearable for Valentine in there,  
  
even leaving him the lantern so he wouldn't be sitting in utter darkness at  
  
least. He should be okay in there. Anyway, he had work to do, and knowing  
  
Valentine was safely out of the way would make things easier for him.  
  
Stuffing the key into his pocket, he looked back at the door one last  
  
time before continuing on his way. 


	10. Cherished Rival part ten

AN:  
  
This is part ten. No, This is no where near wrapping up. It has crossed the half waypoint,  
  
but there's still quite a bit to read yet. As always, props to darknightdestiny  
  
who's helped me with so much stuff it's not even funny. And props to everyone  
  
who reads this. Thanks for your reviews, I can't tell you how much they mean to  
  
me.  
  
* * *  
  
Vincent made an awful face at the locked door, wondering  
  
why he hadn't seen it coming before. Hojo would probably leave him  
  
down here without a second thought, and with this loose end tied,  
  
go on with his post-Valentine life. Perhaps he'd leave him down here  
  
to slowly starve to death.  
  
His thoughts were interrupted with a skittering sound a few feet  
  
from where he stood. Rats. Suddenly, he giggled. How could he ever think  
  
Hojo, kind, thoughtful, honest Hojo would lie to him? He'd seen to it that  
  
he'd have plenty to eat, all he could catch. His laughter climbed higher and  
  
higher until it was a nearly deafening high-pitched shriek. Unaware, he kept  
  
laughing hysterically at his utterly pathetic situation, peals of laughter echoing  
  
through the small room reverberating off the stone walls madly.  
  
Suddenly, he clamped his mouth shut, eyes wide with horror. Gods, had that insane  
  
sound come from him? No, it couldn't be. That horrible clatter had been the laugh  
  
of a madman escaping his lips, shattering the silence, as well as sanity. Immediately  
  
he plopped down in the corner, not caring about the disgusting floor anymore.  
  
He still kept his lips sealed tightly, silencing the scream that lay tickling  
  
the back of his throat.  
  
Had he finally started to crack? Was JENOVA only a few steps away from  
  
stripping him of reasoning? Vincent shuddered uncontrollably at this frightening  
  
notion, screwing his eyes shut as tightly as possible.  
  
Now the only sound in the room was his racing heart beating madly against  
  
its bony cage. He could not, would not let it end this way. He had fought long  
  
and hard for so very long; he couldn't let her snatch his sanity away from him  
  
now. He would never, ever surrender.  
  
"Do you hear me, you sick, twisted creature? I don't give a fuck who  
  
or what you are, what powers you have, I won't let you win! I'll not give in!  
  
I won't allow you to do this to me! Never!" he shrieked madly, face flushed with hate.  
  
Then he clamped his mouth shut again. He was yelling at nothing.  
  
Not a good sign. Best to just shut up before he really cracked.  
  
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he settled his eyes on the heap  
  
of rubbish Hojo had shoved out of the way. Something shiny glinted at him,  
  
circular and silver. Sapped of his strength, he wearily crawled over to  
  
the mound, undisturbed by the unidentifiable filth surrounding him.  
  
He stumbled several times, crying out faintly as he skinned an exposed  
  
knee on the rough cement. Blood oozed out lazily, painting the dreary gray an  
  
interesting dirty red. Pausing momentarily to inspect the wound, he shrugged  
  
it off and continued his pilgrimage. There. He almost had it. He reached out  
  
for the silvery circle, and feebly closed his hand around it. He drew it close  
  
to his face, his ruby red eyes narrowing to inspect the item he had fought so hard for.  
  
A tarnished silver compact that must have been a lady's prized possession  
  
long ago. She obviously thought enough of it to have it interred with her. Delicate  
  
silver filigree adorned the pretty object, exquisite silver looping around  
  
itself in a beautiful pattern. It was a true piece of work, an heirloom to  
  
be cherished for generations to come. But now it lay forgotten in the dust  
  
and trash of this crypt, never to be admired by human eyes again.  
  
Intrigued, he fiddled with the clasp, cursing his partially formed fingers.  
  
They lacked true fingertips, as well as nails, so they weren't ideal for  
  
manipulating tiny clasps. He persistently continued to work on it,  
  
finally balancing it somewhat in the left palm, and picking at the clasp with  
  
his right hand. Success at last. He had managed to flick the lid open with  
  
the help of his right index finger and thumb.  
  
His features dimly illuminated by the flickering lantern he gazed  
  
into the mirror only to see the pallid face of a monster. Burning red eyes stared  
  
back at him from a ghostly pale face framed by disheveled raven hair. Was this  
  
the man -no- the creature he'd become? Where were the warm, velvety brown eyes  
  
that Lucrecia had gazed into so lovingly, the eyes that had beheld all of her beauty?  
  
These weren't his eyes, no way. These eyes had to have been leased to him by the devil  
  
himself, cast up from the pit of hell.  
  
This couldn't be him! This was some freak, someone he didn't know, didn't  
  
want to know, and sure as hell didn't want to be! No, it had to be a mistake,  
  
a trick of the light. Hesitantly, he sneaked a glance into the mirror again.  
  
Frightened monster eyes stared back at him; tears beginning to trickle form the  
  
demon's eyes.  
  
With a hurt cry he flung the mirror far from him, the racking sobs bursting  
  
from his chest obscuring the tinkle of shattering glass. Faced with the grim reality  
  
of just how monstrous he'd become, he slumped down to the ground in hurt shock. How  
  
could Lucrecia ever love him now? How would she even be able to stand looking into  
  
those hellish red eyes without fear and revulsion? He couldn't expect her to.  
  
All though he knew 'Crecia hadn't loved him for his brown eyes, or for his  
  
appearance at all for that matter, he despaired. She had loved him for the man he  
  
was inside, and even that had been taken from him. Vincent Valentine would have  
  
never let himself be thrown into a hole in the wall to starve. Vincent Valentine  
  
wouldn't have put up with a crazy alien bitch in his head, nor would he have laughed  
  
so madly. Vincent Valentine wouldn't have failed her. How could he honestly call  
  
himself that anymore? He was no Vincent Valentine.  
  
Better to be nothing, nobody. Wasn't that all he really was now anyway?  
  
An empty, faceless shell of the man he had been, JENOVA's plaything and Hojo's  
  
little specimen. What else was there for him?  
  
Nothing, he supposed. He wondered why he hadn't realized it before. Now  
  
that she was gone, there was nothing. Just as well that he forget about living,  
  
because the life that had been his was simply not anymore. He'd fallen so very far  
  
in just the last week, gone from ecstasy in her arms to torment in this cold crypt.  
  
Could he fall any further? Of course he could, but only a little more,  
  
for then he would hit rock bottom.  
  
So be it. 


	11. Cherished Rival part eleven

AN:  
  
This is part eleven. As always, props to darknightdestiny  
  
who's helped me with so much stuff it's not even funny. And props to everyone  
  
who reads this. Thanks for your reviews, I can't tell you how much they mean to  
  
me.  
  
* * *  
  
It was finally finished. Hojo took a moment to admire the piece of art he  
  
had created for his victim. Shiny, flawlessly cut bronze shimmered brightly  
  
on the worktable. He hadn't had much experience with metalworking, but he was  
  
damned proud of his results. It would suit Valentine perfectly. Now all that was  
  
left was to show it to him, and attach it.  
  
Carefully, he made his way down to Vincent's quarters, trying to make as  
  
little noise as possible. He didn't want to alert Vincent of his arrival, giving  
  
the man time to be at the door ready to dash out when it opened. His footsteps  
  
made annoying clacks on the cement, as much as he tried to prevent it. Hopefully  
  
Valentine was too busy moping or sleeping to hear it. Impulsively he crossed his  
  
fingers for luck, and slowly drew the latch back.  
  
He'd expected to see the shapeshifter sprawled out in the relative safety  
  
of his corner, not sitting on the opposite side of the room next to the very filth  
  
he'd tried to keep Valentine away from. He didn't seem to be sleeping, rather  
  
engrossed in his other favorite activity- moping. He did a lot of that.  
  
"Rise and shine Mr. Valentine." He prodded Vincent in the shoulder playfully,  
  
still in a good mood from his success with making prosthesis for Valentine.  
  
"C'mon now, quit being pokey. Sit up straight. I have something for you." Vincent  
  
made no attempt to comply, rather sighing, and closing his eyes tiredly. What did  
  
Hojo want now? Hadn't he done enough?  
  
"Go 'way." He mumbled, slouching down further. "Go 'way and leave me alone."  
  
Unsuaded, Hojo reached for Vincent's right hand, and pulled him up. Vincent was starting  
  
to wear on his nerves now. Ungrateful wretch. Couldn't Vincent see that he  
  
was attempting to make things a little better? Of course it was no outright  
  
apology, but it was somewhat a gesture of remorse. His patience was beginning  
  
to thin rapidly.  
  
"Now you listen to me. I made you this so you can use that arm again.  
  
Look," he said, tilting Vincent's head to show him the claw. Vincent's eyes remained  
  
unfocused, his face emotionless. "Isn't it much nicer than that horrid rotten  
  
monstrosity you have now? If you cooperate, you'll be using that arm in no time. "  
  
He sighed. His progress in trying to persuade Vincent to cooperate was a slow as  
  
cold molasses rolling up hill. Everytime he hauled him up he'd slump again. What  
  
a stubborn man the ex-Turk was. "Sit up now. I'm not playing with you,  
  
Turk. Goddammit, can't you cooperate for a moment?" he  
  
exclaimed disgustedly, almost ready to slap the man. He finally half dragged,  
  
half shoved the Turk over to the wall to support him. Vincent scarcely blinked  
  
during this, not even wincing when his head smacked the wall harshly.  
  
The rough treatment wasn't really bothering him. In fact for some reason,  
  
it made him feel a little better. Like he was paying for his sins almost.  
  
"Stop fucking around. Look at me when I'm talking to you Valentine.  
  
Damn it, look at me!" He roughly grabbed Vincent's chin to force him to look up.  
  
Not caring about being gentle with his patient right now, he twisted the Turks  
  
head around until the red orbs focused on him. "I'm tired of this shit. Is it  
  
so much to ask that you sit up straight for a few minutes? Gods!" He made a face  
  
as he grasped Vincent's poor damaged arm, and began to attach the bronze forearm  
  
to the blackened flesh.  
  
This part was easy. The hand and fingers would be the challenge.  
  
He closed the hinged case round the arm, snapping it closed. Vincent was  
  
still slumping, if not for the wall he'd be crumpled on the floor again.  
  
He really wasn't acting well at all. Maybe he was sick. Hojo began to  
  
regret his harsh words.  
  
"Valentine? Do you not feel well? Are you sick? C'mon. sit up." He  
  
paused in his ministrations to Vincent's arm to check him for a fever. Sweeping the soft  
  
hair out of the way, he gently felt Vincent's forehead. His pale skin was as cool  
  
as bone. Puzzled, he continued to prod Vincent, wanting to know what was wrong.  
  
Vincent finally groaned, trying to push Hojo's intruding hand away. He didn't  
  
want the man even touching him right now. He just wanted to be alone so he could  
  
curl up and die. Fuck everything.  
  
"Fine, if you want to be stubborn, do so. But I'm warning you, it'll only be  
  
harder on you." He finished, trying to attach the curved piece of metal he'd fashioned  
  
for a wrist to the forearm plate. "Dammit...stupid piece of shit, it's supposed to  
  
just slide into the slot..." he fumbled with it a few seconds, finally sliding it  
  
into place. "Now for the screws...is it hurting you?" He'd asked mostly to get a  
  
reaction of some sort, not necessarily out of any real concern for pain.  
  
Hojo waited impatiently for a reply, and when it was clear one was not  
  
coming anytime soon, he continued with the procedure. His irritability was  
  
beginning to return twofold now that he was sure Vincent was being difficult  
  
to spite him. "Valentine, whatever your problem is, get over it. Is it  
  
because I left you down here? Well, you have to get used to it. You know that  
  
very well." The miserable ex-Turk groaned again, trying to shake Hojo away.  
  
He wanted to be left alone. Besides, he felt kind of...funny. Like his bones  
  
were being sculpted to another form. He whimpered, feeling every movement  
  
of Hojo's hand along his limbs keenly, paining him deeply, straight to the bone.  
  
"Quit being such a ridiculous baby. If you feel poorly, say something."  
  
Vincent sighed, the pain becoming sharper by the second. He'd felt like this before  
  
...but when? And why? It hurt so much...and worst of all was this strange  
  
hunger growing in him. "Uhnnn..."  
  
"I don't understand 'uhnnn...' if you need something, say it  
  
right." He replied coldly, now attaching the hand piece. The wrist had been  
  
quite a bastard, but the hand was a pain as well. "Well? Are you going to tell me  
  
what's wrong, or are you going to sniffle about it?" he paused again, growing more  
  
irked by the moment. He was being so stubborn!  
  
Just a little more to go. It seemed he had been wrong in naming the fingers  
  
as the most difficult part. The little bastards were almost as simple to attach as  
  
the forearm. Snap snap snap. Easy. There. Now for the screws and pins to hold it  
  
together. He knew it couldn't be really comfortable, driving pins and screws into  
  
the poor man's arm, but hey, it had to be done.  
  
"Valentine, c'mon. Just a little longer...don't act like this. Here I am trying  
  
to help you, for god's sake, and you're being so damned stubborn!"  
  
Vincent had never really been a cooperative subject, but now he was being very  
  
difficult. He whined, and refused to sit up. He wouldn't cooperate. He wouldn't  
  
do anything the way he was supposed to. "Valentine, I suggest you straighten up right  
  
now. This is ridiculous, you're a grown man, not a two year old. You can cooperate with  
  
me. Now do so."  
  
The pain was still there, but it didn't feel like shifting and shaping any longer.  
  
It had settled to a dull ache, which was a little more tolerable, but not much. Vincent  
  
put it down to Hojo's doings, but that didn't make him feel any better. Ah well, at  
  
least he didn't feel like he was coming apart at the seams anymore...  
  
But what was this...?  
  
He was gripped with a sudden impulse to clamp his teeth down on Hojo's annoying  
  
arm, those hands that held him in a stiff sitting position while worrying his poor  
  
hurt arm. He growled lowly, imaging what it would be like to shred the man's arm  
  
to ribbons, to gnaw the bone, to make him hurt the way he was hurting. The more he  
  
thought about it the more he wanted to do it.  
  
"What is your problem tonight? You just can't seem to do  
  
anything right. Even when it involves doing nothing you still manage to fuck it  
  
up. All I wanted was for you to sit up for a few minutes. So why can't you- "  
  
Vincent growled again. He didn't like this man. Who the hell did he think he was?  
  
Talking to him like a fucking dog? He wouldn't have that. He was much better than that...  
  
But who was he? Vincent paused a moment. A wave of panic washed over him. He didn't know  
  
who this man nagging at him was, but even more frightening, he wasn't exactly sure who  
  
this thing inside of him was. Common sense told him it was Vincent Valentine, of course,  
  
or at least JENOVA, but he didn't think so...He wasn't really acting anything  
  
like himself....  
  
He wouldn't growl of all things...oh, and the bloodlust...He forgot his fear  
  
for a moment, and thought of blood. Red, warm, bright liquid gushing out from  
  
his victim's veins, showering him in crimson. Red was such a lovely color, such  
  
a pity he didn't see it more often.  
  
"Valentine, straighten-" He was cut off again by another feral growl from the  
  
wretched man, who shook Hojo's hands off of him. Instead of slumping to the ground,  
  
he began to draw himself up to his full height. He was tired of this man, and he  
  
wasn't going to put up with him anymore. He would see red, and he would see it now.  
  
"I'm tired of you, and so you're going to die now." Vincent glowered at Hojo  
  
menacingly. His eyebrows furrowed heavily over crazy, bloodthirsty eyes,  
  
his lips contorted in a snarl. Hojo observed him with a growing fear, wondering  
  
exactly what was going on. Valentine was having another of his bad turns,  
  
but Hojo'd never seen one this bad. He'd gone from an uncooperative, passive,  
  
docile creature into a little bundle of aggression, hate and ferocity in a  
  
matter of seconds. Even so, he'd have to be prepared for anything that might happen now.  
  
"Valentine? Snap out of this." He began, trying to appease the angered man.  
  
In a trice, Vincent had leapt on Hojo, and began snarling even more fiercely,  
  
taking the doctor completely off guard. Had the man finally snapped? That had to  
  
be it. What could Hojo do? "What the hell are you doing?! Cut it out!" He yelled,  
  
trying to throw the man back into his seat, only angering him more. He raised his  
  
claw menacingly.  
  
"Oh, so now you're going to maim me with the very claw I gave you. What a way to  
  
say thank you." He said, sarcasm oozing from his voice. "Now get off." Vincent  
  
hesitated a moment, not quite sure what to do. He still wanted this man's blood;  
  
he wanted to hurt the bastard. But another part of him felt that it just wouldn't  
  
be...smart to kill the man. Something gnawed at the edge of his mind that he should  
  
not only spare the man, but he should in fact get off of him right now.  
  
No matter. He slashed at Hojo's chest and with it a sort of  
  
pleasure. He could rip the man to shreds right here and now. It felt good to have  
  
some power, it really did. No more 'sit still and let the man prod him' anymore.  
  
No, he was drunk with power. He could do anything! To prove his point he raked his  
  
claw across Hojo's chest again, ripping his shirt and penetrating the skin. It wasn't  
  
a terribly deep scratch, but it was good enough for now.  
  
Hojo felt the cold metal against his skin, and shuddered. The shivering became  
  
more violent as the claw continued to raze his chest, shredding his dress shirt  
  
into bloody strips. "Valentine, stop it! What are you doing!?" he managed to wheeze  
  
out before Vincent brought the claw down again, ready to bring more liquid crimson.  
  
"Ungrateful bastard...go ahead, kill me...heh...but I feel sorry for you if you do..."  
  
That comment caught Vincent's attention. It seemed like his head was  
  
clearing now, slowly but gradually. What the hell was Hojo spouting now? He cocked  
  
his head; claw paused over Hojo's chest. There Hojo saw his chance.  
  
"Heh...you really think you'll survive on your own? Think again. JENOVA  
  
won't let you destroy me; I don't care what she told you. I still can do things  
  
for her. I'm still indispensable. I have a purpose. Ah, I'm not trying to  
  
say she needs me, because that would be a lie. But you, Mr. Valentine,  
  
you on the other hand do need me. D'ya want JENOVA to posses you? No?  
  
Then snap out of this."  
  
Vincent was still, indecision grappling inside of him. He wanted  
  
Hojo dead, but the feeling of dread kept growing. Suddenly he  
  
wanted nothing more to do with Hojo. Hastily he jumped off of  
  
the professor, eyes wide with apprehension. What were these things  
  
inside of him? Voices urging him to destroy, kill, maim, hurt  
  
and demolish everything and everyone, voices demanding he kill Hojo,  
  
and voices warning him not to. But which was his voice?  
  
Which of these desires were his? 


	12. Cherished Rival part twelve

AN:  
  
This is part twelve. As always, props to darknightdestiny  
  
who's helped me with so much stuff it's not even funny. And props to everyone  
  
who reads this. Thanks for your reviews, I can't tell you how much they mean to  
  
me.  
  
* * *  
  
"You fool...what were you trying to do?" Hojo gasped, sitting up shakily.  
  
"You stupid Turk, what is running through your hard little head right now?  
  
Have you finally gone nuts? Well? Answer me?"  
  
The panic continued to tear at Vincent, his heart thudding madly. Every  
  
word sent chills down his spine, every sound made him want to jump. Oh no... no... was  
  
it happening already? Was she driving him? Was JENOVA tired of just watching, and  
  
wanted to have a go at the game as well? Everything was so out of focus, so  
  
frightening...and if his heat pounded any faster he felt it would burst.  
  
"What...what do you mean...? Am I insane now?" He whispered, the fear  
  
painted boldly across his face. "God Hojo, what's going on? Why am I doing this?  
  
I...I don't want to live like this! Make her stop..."  
  
Oh shit. She couldn't be doing it already. Hojo stared at him incredulously,  
  
sizing up the situation. Valentine was frightened, that was for sure. His eyes seemed  
  
ready to pop out of his head, round red orbs shining with terror. The way his voice  
  
trembled, the desperate fear of the situation made things apparent. He was riding  
  
the raged edge between sanity and its antonym.  
  
"Calm down. Sit down. Just sit down. He said urgently, scrambling to his feet,  
  
wincing as he clutched his fresh wounds. "Don't get up. Don't do anything. God's,  
  
so early?" Hojo's actions did absolutely nothing to reassure the petrified Turk. He  
  
numbly lowered himself to his knees, to frightened to make a sound. Who knew what the  
  
next words out of his mouth would be? They certainly wouldn't be his. The sensations  
  
racing through his backbone continued to torment him, the swirling vapors in his poor  
  
head threatened to tear him apart.  
  
"Now just park yourself. I'll be right back." Hojo limped off to the door,  
  
mumbling curses every inch of the way. Vincent watched him helplessly, still too  
  
petrified to move. Hojo finally made it to the door, staggering into the Library,  
  
not even bothering to bolt the door behind him. The gashes were nothing serious,  
  
but they stung like hell. Blood oozed steadily, but he wasn't concerned with that  
  
right now. He wasn't feeling weak from blood loss yet, but there were things he had  
  
to do before it happened.  
  
He shambled over to his desk, his second home and Valentine's favorite spot to  
  
hide in. A smirk lit up his face, despite the situation. The twisted little smile grew,  
  
'til it resembled a mad snarl more than a smile. That gave way to an insane  
  
giggle that nearly racked him with its force. He rode it out however,  
  
chuckling even as he fished through the desk drawers for his precious vial.  
  
His search unfruitful, he pulled the drawer out of the desk, flinging it aside  
  
as he plundered the next.  
  
"You can't hide from me, you little shit. No more than Valentine can hide  
  
from JENOVA. Hiding doesn't solve anything. " He managed to say between chuckles.  
  
He patted the desk affectionately before he began pillaging the third drawer.  
  
"You of all things should know that. How many times did Valentine try to hide  
  
from me beneath you? And you know the success he enjoyed, or rather didn't.  
  
I found him every time. But like an idiot, he kept crawling back to you, like  
  
you could save him. Feh," He threw the third drawer to the ground, and started  
  
on the fourth and final. "Hiding. Things can only be hidden for so long! What  
  
a fool I was to think I could hide him from everyone else. Why, that door won't  
  
hold him, should he decide to break out! No, I can't leave him in that damned  
  
little closet alive." He drew out the vial triumphantly, and let the last drawer  
  
fall as well. He stiffened as the pain gnawed at him, be he determinedly inched  
  
his way back to Valentine.  
  
Vincent was right where he'd left him. He hobbled over to the motionless  
  
wretch, and stooped down to his level, grunting a little with the effort. "Valentine,"  
  
he said, grimacing with pain "It's time. Come on now, before it's too late, and  
  
I can't help you."  
  
As little as Vincent wanted to speak right now; he couldn't help but ask the  
  
professor something.  
  
He parted his lips slowly; wary of what might escape them. "Why...are  
  
you going to help me..?" he whispered in a tiny voice. Hojo frowned, and shook his head.  
  
"A selfish reason, as always...you think of me as a selfish bastard...well,  
  
you're about to see just how selfish I am..." he clenched his teeth, fighting off  
  
the pain that was still chewing on him. JENOVA should be kicking in about now...or  
  
was she too busy with her new toy? "Come on, stand up. Time's running out..."  
  
Vincent stood up shakily, his face a canvas for the emotions that swirled in  
  
him like paint.  
  
Hurt, fear, sadness, hate and a slew of nameless ones that were as potent as the rest.  
  
Hojo lurched over to a coffin, and motioned for Vincent to follow.  
  
He unsteadily approached the doctor. Hojo dug through his pockets,  
  
and produced the vial and a capped needle. "Don't worry...perfectly sterile.  
  
Just hold still." He said, filing the syringe as Vincent watched in awe.  
  
What was going on here?  
  
"Now listen carefully. If you want any relief from JENOVA,  
  
do what I tell you. Understood?" He nodded, slowly, not daring to  
  
open his mouth. Hojo kicked the lid off, coughing as dust flew up.  
  
The occupant was little more than bone and scraps of fabric that crumbled  
  
easily when he nudged them. He gestured to Vincent, who was watching  
  
with horrified fascination. "Climb in."  
  
Vincent stared at him. Climb into that? What was the lunatic doing now?  
  
He wasn't going to climb into that thing...but..relief from these voices...  
  
relief from the tingling in his body...it would be worth it. He climbed in,  
  
keeping his eyes fixed on Hojo, who had finished preparing the needle.  
  
"Now, before I give this to you, hear me out. I still hate you.  
  
I'm not trying to make things any easier for you. As I said, it's for  
  
my benefit. Selfish. Got it? Now, you're going to say goodnight. For a  
  
very long time. You're going to sleep. And perhaps you'll dream.  
  
Oh, the dreams you'll have. So I am not killing you. I'm merely taking  
  
your life. I know it seems contradictory...but it isn't. I advise you  
  
to take one last look around you. You won't be seeing anything for awhile.  
  
And while you sleep...you can think about her. Maybe she'll forgive  
  
you someday...but I won't. Just remember that." 


	13. Cherished Rival part thirteen

AN:  
  
This is part thirteen. Things are finally starting to wind down as you can probably see.  
  
As always, props to darknightdestiny  
  
who's helped me with so much stuff it's not even funny. And props to everyone  
  
who reads this. Thanks for your reviews, I can't tell you how much they mean to  
  
me.  
  
* * *  
  
Vincent felt a prick in his neck. He flinched, he hadn't see  
  
the needle come up while Hojo had distracted him. "I don't  
  
doubt that we will meet again. And when we do, I'm sure you'll  
  
still have your grudge. As will I. So, until then...I'll leave you to your  
  
dreams." Vincent blinked. His eyelids seemed to be growing extraordinarily  
  
heavy. He wasn't sure that Hojo had stopped talking, he could still hear a  
  
faint buzz that became dimmer, and eventually faded.  
  
He'd felt like this before...right after being shot by Hojo.  
  
He supposed he was dying again. Good. Or maybe it was another of those  
  
fake deaths, like he'd suffered earlier. He'd always heard so much about it,  
  
his fellow Turks boasting about how they'd narrowly escaped death countless  
  
times in the course of their career. Well, he had them all beat...he'd experienced  
  
the brink of death twice in less then a week. But he didn't feel like boasting  
  
right now. He lay back and let the chemicals do their work.  
  
And just like that he was asleep.  
  
Hojo looked down on him, tiredly. Well, he was finally out of  
  
the way, thanks to Gast's lovely chemicals. Now if they only worked. He'd  
  
screwed around with hem, hoping to make them more potent, and he now regretted  
  
that somewhat. What if he had made it ineffective? Well, time would tell,  
  
and he hoped to be out of here before it told.  
  
He looked...dead. Hojo supposed that was a good thing,  
  
after all the stuff was supposed to put the subject into a sort of hibernation,  
  
a sleep that wouldn't be woken from very easily. It'd probably take a good hard jolt  
  
to wake him from it. At least he wouldn't be up wreaking havoc, not any time soon.  
  
He looked down at his chest, not surprised to see that the wound had begun  
  
to close up already, although he still felt the pain. Ah well... JENOVA could be  
  
poky sometimes, but she always managed to come through. He absentmindedly  
  
traced Valentine's jawbone, noting that the skin was already beginning to  
  
cool. So far, so good. Hopefully, his 'alterations' to the  
  
formula would make the stuff slow down his metabolism almost to the  
  
point of death. Screw hibernation, he wanted to achieve the next level.  
  
A static state, living death, preservation. If all went well,  
  
he'd stay like this for quite a long time. A few years, maybe longer.  
  
And if Vincent woke up before he was ready to deal with him...well...he  
  
didn't want to think about it.  
  
At the very least he'd be in for a few weeks of torment, slowly  
  
starving to death in the tiny room, reduced to catching rats and other  
  
goodies until he eventually expired of dehydration and starvation.  
  
But perhaps JENOVA would find a way to sustain him, to keep him alive  
  
even through the shortage of sustenance. She did funny things,  
  
and it certainly wouldn't be beyond her power to do that. One thing  
  
he'd learned about her, JENOVA did what she damned well pleased,  
  
and no one, not him, not Gast, not the laws of science and  
  
nature or the gods themselves could stop her. She was quite ambitious;  
  
you had to give her that.  
  
And at the worst...no, he definitely didn't want to think about that.  
  
No, better that he remain in stasis until he was better equipped to deal with him,  
  
or that he starve to death. Better for both of them.  
  
He did intend to return for him. Once he was ready to deal with him,  
  
that was. When he'd discovered a way to lessen some of the damage done, to  
  
perhaps loosen JENOVA's grasp on him a little.  
  
He was sure he could do it, after all what had been done could conceivably be  
  
undone, and as for preventing JENOVA from using him as her destroyer, if he 'fixed'  
  
Valentine's 'problems' he'd be weaker, and not as appealing to JENOVA. At least  
  
he hoped he wouldn't be. Weak was no good to JENOVA.  
  
"I suppose I better stay good and useful, or she'll have no use for me as well,"  
  
he said, wincing as he slowly nudged the lid back onto the coffin.  
  
Now that the pale face was covered, and the monster sealed away  
  
where he could cause no mischief Hojo should have felt better, but  
  
he didn't. He felt somewhat disheartened, almost saddened to see him go.  
  
Saddened? His eyes widened at that. Saddened? This man...no,  
  
he'd been through that all before, and didn't want to think about it right  
  
now. He hated him. If he could have killed Valentine, and been sure he'd stay  
  
dead he would have sent him to hell in the beginning. His lust for  
  
revenge had prevented that, and caused this entire mess, but still,  
  
he blamed Vincent. He deserved hellfire, as much as he himself did.  
  
He'd merely settled for the second best thing, a long slumber where he  
  
could stew, and let his memories torment him.  
  
Hojo looked back one last time before shutting the door, and then  
  
slowly made his way down the hall, and up the stairs. He ignored the mess in  
  
the library, not caring about the clutter anymore. He carefully made  
  
his way up the dusty circular stairway, each creak sounding louder  
  
than a thunderclap to him. "And don't look down", he mumbled, climbing the steps one by one,  
  
"you know what they say about looking down after all." He paused at  
  
the top, and despite his words, looked down.  
  
"Feh, I hope you sleep well, Valentine, and I also wish  
  
you all the nightmares your festering soul can contrive. I hope you're  
  
hurting right now, I really do. I want to wish you the worst,  
  
the very worst I can, just to prove my hatred for you." that much said, he  
  
turned to go, but lingered for another moment at the top step staring down  
  
at the faint light at the end of the hall. Then he continued on his way. 


	14. Cherished Rival: Epilogue

Cherished Rival  
  
Epilogue  
  
* * *  
  
Years had slipped by like sand pouring through an hourglass. They had flashed and faded with a horrific quickness. Days had come and gone, and with them months and years.  
  
And now he was old. Lines had begun to crease his face, his hair had begun to show strips of silver here and there, and arthritis had begun to rear its ugly head.  
  
So many years.  
  
And yet it only seemed like yesterday. He could still smell her hair, sticky sweet with tangerines and promises, laced with hints of mako and mildew. He could hear her bell-like laugh tinkling in his ears like so much shattered glass, and he could feel her silky-soft skin.  
  
He could remember all of those things perfectly. And sometimes if he really cleared his mind and just ::concentrated:: he could remember her smile.  
  
God that was so long ago.  
  
He'd buried many things in his past. Time and age were the best killers of memories, and together they had managed to rid him of many over the years. Things better forgotten and things he wished he hadn't let slip away.  
  
But two things stood apart forever imprinted in his mind. There were some things that could never be eroded by times ceaseless waves. One was the memory of her. It was fainter now sadly, but he'd managed to hold on to that.  
  
The other had been the Turk.  
  
It seemed ironic that they shared the same spot in his head. But when he really thought about it, it didn't seem so mystifying at all.  
  
He'd never returned to that cellar after that night.  
  
Afterwards he had dropped the key into the safe and left nothing to indicate there had ever been a Vincent Valentine. It would be as if he'd never existed. It would be for the best.  
  
But he hadn't been able to leave. It gnawed at him and he despised himself for it. But he had never been one to leave well enough alone; that went entirely against the grain for him.  
  
It might have also had a bit to do with JENOVA, now that he thought about it. She had seemed content to have him locked away, but she didn't seem to agree that he never have a time to shine again.  
  
Hence the letter.  
  
He felt like a fool for writing it at first, the sensible part of his brain begging him to leave it be. But all the same he had written it and left it for anyone foolish enough to carry out the instructions detailed within.  
  
After all it was only fair that he be given a chance, as slim as it might be. In truth he felt sorry for anyone who was brash enough to open that coffin. Who knew what Vincent would do upon awakening? And who really wanted to find out for that matter?  
  
JENOVA seemed satisfied with this shred of hope, and strangely, he had as well.  
  
That had been over thirty years ago. Thirty years was a long time, but to some things time had no meaning. Valentine would be one of those things, had he managed to survive this long. Somehow Hojo had no doubt that he had. He had no certain way of knowing, but he could feel it in his guts.  
  
Thirty years.  
  
He vaguely wondered what Valentine would have done with those thirty years had none of this ever happened. He wondered if Valentine would have even survived to see those thirty years. Turks died, that was an undeniable fact that everyone knew. Even the most exceptional met their end eventually. There had been no questions regarding Vincent.  
  
He should have been grateful for that, but he wasn't. All these years he'd thought about his little time capsule lying in the basement, and it had itched at him like a scab that one longs to pick at but mustn't.  
  
He'd left well enough alone long enough.  
  
He could borrow a company car, no problem at all. He'd worked here long enough that no one would deny him that, especially if it meant not seeing his face about the building for a few days. That had always been the reaction to his vacations that had taken anyway. He had no reason to believe that this time would be otherwise.  
  
JENOVA swirled and hazed, she seemed to be quite pleased at the prospect of a trip to Nibleheim.  
  
"Yes." he murmured. "I didn't think you would object to that, eh? You must like picking at scabs the way I do."  
  
He pulled a pen from his coat pocket and began to write a memo saying that he would be out of town for the next few days. Few days. Heh. If Valentine was indeed still there and everything had gone the way he'd intended it to all those years ago it would be more like a one-way trip.  
  
But that didn't matter.  
  
He had scabs to pick.  
  
* *  
*  
  
Authors Notes Well, that's how it ends. It feels kind of funny to have this finished, it's been with me for such a long time now. But unlike Hojo, I am not going to pick at scabs. Thanks to everyone who read this, and everyone who took time to review it. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. 2001-2003 


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